


My past, present and future (Belongs to you)

by Sunau



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Amnesia, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, Dreams and Nightmares, Dreamsharing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Like really slow, M/M, Mark Lee (NCT) is Whipped, Mental Breakdown, Missing Persons, Orphans, Repressed Memories, Slow Burn, a lot of crying, too much angst lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 71,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25594759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunau/pseuds/Sunau
Summary: The story of Minhyung and Donghyuck was tragicomic like this, how Mark was trying to escape from the claws of his past and how Haechan would shred his last breath just to remember his own.But in the end, that’s what they had in common-their past.And even if the universe tried to separate them, like the cliff that has started it all, they would look for each other until they finally would meet again, because there is something to be said about two people who find each other time and time again. No matter what situations they end up in or how far apart they become - they come back to each other. Those are the people who have a little thing called fate on their side. It's almost like the world is saying, "stop separating, you are meant to be together..."(or, what happens when two childhood friends, bonded with one another since their births are separated just in a blink of an eye? Will Mark and Haechan be able to fix the chaos created on 10th august of 2005?)
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan & Mark Lee, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 67
Kudos: 83





	1. The sun will rise (and we will try again )

“Minhyung!” Penetrating, high pitched voice ghosts Mark’s ears, jolting him awake.

Mark flutters his eyes open and instantly is blinded by the overwhelming rays of sunlight shining through the cloudless sky, stabbing into his eyes, making him grimace. He rubs his squeezed eyes and once he adjusts vision, he scans his surroundings, observing the area. Everything looks a bit bleached and tired in the hazy sunshine but Mark would recognize this place even if he went completely blind.

Tall sunflowers, yellow and radiant, hover over him as if trying to shield him from the sharp beams of sunlight. Warm grass pokes his sides, sticking uncomfortably to his sweaty, glistening limbs. He feels at home, enchanted by the feeling of familiarity, safety, and comfort. Truly a blissful moment, the feeling of giddiness fills him whole, he beams from ear to ear and closes his eyes again, sighing in satisfaction as the light breeze rustles through tall grass, teasing his hair and brushing across his face, cooling his hot, rosy skin.

“Hyung where are you?” He hears the kid yell once again, tone different this time, sounding more urgent, more desperate. And Mark _knows_. Mark knows better than anyone who the voice belongs to. To a person who once brought so much joy, so much excitement in his life but left with the bittersweet taste aftermath.

Mark swiftly sits up, his eyes helplessly roam around in panic. He can’t see anybody around, the field is soulless, left empty and abandoned, only tall, green grass keeping him company.

The cloying sense of Déjà vu knots inside his stomach. “Hyung? It’s not funny, I’m scared hyung.” The child hushes through a trembling voice, sounding on the verge of tears. Mark hears soft sniffles. “Min?! Help me!” Suddenly Mark is startled by head-splitting wail, blasting through the field, blowing the sunflowers away.

Mark jumps up, head spinning round as he agitatedly tries to locate where the voice is coming from, but the cries echo, coming from the different sides, misleading Mark to nowhere.

So Mark runs inside the maze-like field, his feet take off in a search of the owner of the sobs, the need to find, to hold into safe arms, to assure that he’s right next to them, that he will protect them from any evil, is the only thought keeping him going, giving him the energy to run faster.

And just like that before peaceful scenery morphs into a more ominous one.

The vibrant blue sky paints into a bloody red wrapped into black clouds, shadowing everything beneath, erasing the color off nature, leaving surroundings in dull grey. If Mark didn’t know any better he would think that the world was ending, crumbling apart as the sky seemingly gets closer and closer to the land with each step Mark takes, consuming everything in dead darkness. But Mark _knows_. He knows the truth behind this apocalyptic world. He knows what awaits him at the finish line.

In the end, the story always ends in two opposite ways but it’s the aftermath that stays the same.

In one prologue, a happier one, he successfully finds the kid, a little boy, but Mark never gets a chance to talk, to apologize, he’s swiftly consumed into white light.

The second ending is more brutal, Mark ends up running in circles whilst listening to heart-wrenching cries before he’s sucked into a dark hole.

Mark knows all of this is part of his mind’s play, this whole world is built by his imagination.

But Mark continues to run regardless as the ground swallows him whole, sucking him into the abyss while cries continue to flood his ear. The boy continuously calls out his name, Mark's name falling out of his lips like a prayer, he hears a silent cries of ‘Minhyung' he hears ‘Hyung' choked down by sobs, he hears weak, broken pleads ‘Save me' repeating over and over again, driving him crazy, making him see nothing but red as he shuffles around the field, the voices misleading his each step.

This world is a never-ending maze, which no matter how hard Mark tries, he can never trick.

He removes the leaf from his way, displaying a dark forest in front of him, a different section of the maze. Mark stops at his tracks, almost losing his balance and stumbling face down, when he sees the petite silhouette hunched down on the ground, face buried into knees. Mark exhales a long relieved sigh as he regains his composure, he clutches onto his chest, feeling each nonrhythmic beat his heart takes. He feels like crying, already tearing up as he walks closer to the boy, who absurdly stops crying when he hears the grass rustle. He swiftly perks his head up towards Mark and-

_Right..._

Like always, his face is blurred as if any facial features had been erased from his round face. Mark can’t tell what he looks like-in the end it was him himself who tried so hard to forget this face, leaving his brain with no other option but to manifest images of the boy with no actual face.

Mark understands that the boy speaking directly to him, saying something eagerly as he can see his chin move. But as usual, Mark can’t hear him, he can hear nothing, everything is eerily silent, the silence draws out, raining down on his ears endlessly until it grows its own sound, a buzzing like a radio wave.

His vision gets gauzy as the world lightens, pales, and as the white light blinds him, the urge to sleep washes him over. His eyes close down, losing sight of the kid once more. And before drifting away he hears him whisper. “You've found me”

_Only he didn’t._

Mark rises from the bed with a heavy gasp as if his whole soul is being sucked out of him, eyes wide in terror stare into space, and whilst holding his breath he slumps back down into a sitting position, head hung low. His low panting is the only disturbance to seemingly peaceful night as he hopelessly tries to steady his uneven sharp intakes of oxygen, hands clenching to his chest as each taken breath pangs his lungs in pain, making it harder to catch his breath.

When Mark finally is able to fill his lungs with air once again, he stays in the sitting position for a while. Burying his face into his clammy hands he listens to his erratic heartbeat throbbing into his ears, pumping out blood through his veins, making black dots appear in his vision. He huffs the last time which is followed by a quiet grunt, the noise coming muffled through his clasped hands. Mark counts to ten, trying to compose oneself as he becomes uncomfortably aware of the cold sweat dripping from his forehead, mixing with fresh tears.

Feeling grossly wet and sticky he finally forces himself to look up, it’s still dark outside he notes, the only source of light is the blue moonlight peeking through the window, giving enough exposure of his whereabouts.

He’s in his room, safe and unharmed, no danger pronounced, there is no reason to panic.

But as the images of his dream-He would prefer to call it a nightmare- slowly floats in the back of his mind, his lip caught between his teeth wobbles, he lets a pathetic sound, sounding cross between a choke and a dry cry.

_Lee Donghyuck._

Only his name is what Mark remembers vividly about the boy, anything else is blurred in between the lines of his brain trying to erase every existed memory associated with him and remembering every small detail just to taunt Mark more.

Mark slowly sits up from his bed, rubbing his heavy eyes, he glances at the wall, the clock reads 6 AM meaning he has more time to get ready for his daily routine, yet another day of pretending that he was doing just fine. The moment he steps out from piles of his warm blankets he feels coldness embracing him in an unpleasant hug making goosebumps straighten all over his pale body. He hisses in displeasure, no matter how many years he had spent living in Canada, he would never get used to its climate.

You see Mark before known as Minhyung was a rather shy but polite kid, living in the small village on the island located in South Korea. Even if his memories about the place are vague, he confidently can tell you that he loved living there. Mark recalls carelessly riding his bike around the shore, breeze kissing him across the face, the feeling of warmth, the salty aroma of the sea is forever inked on his skin like a permanent tattoo.

He quickly shuffles into the bathroom, not even bothering to eat breakfast, the sticky layers of sweat and tears make him want to throw up. He needs to freshen himself up from this pathetic state. With trembling hands, he strips down as fast as he can, yet still careful not to slip on the ice-cold floor. He sprints inside the shower in a search of any kind of source of warmth to heat up his corpse-like cold body. As hot stream pours down on his tensed muscles he lets himself rest, shutting his eyes he lightly bumps his head on the wall and lets out a sigh in both satisfaction and irritation.

The memories of his next-door neighbors, the mister, and Ms. Lees and their son Donghyuck reappear in his vision, continuing to live on in his brain. Mark doesn’t know wherever feel blessed or cursed by that.

He still can feel in his heart the love and fondness he held towards this family which was reasonable as his mother had lived her whole life living at the same place, was friends with Lees even way before Mark’s birth. They’ve been around him the moment he was brought to life, being the ones who had taken his mom to the hospital, supporting the single mother as much as they could, making her unbearable pain a bit sufferable, Ms. Lee being the first person his eyes ever landed on as she took care of him while his mother was recovering.

So it was understandable to say that Mark thought about them as his own family-shared surnames just made things more complicated for little Mark so he quickly settled down calling them his uncle and aunt. He remembers being particularly fond of auntie Lee, seeing her as his second mom as she stayed around him the most, sometimes more than his own mother, babysitting him when Mark’s mom had to leave for her numerous part-time jobs.

Mark doesn’t know why or when his legs give up, making him slid down on the floor as the shower continues to rain down on him, burning his skin. He buries his face into his knees as flashbacks fly back to him like a hurricane.

He doesn’t want to remember any of it but is too afraid to forget either.

After Mark, one year later their son Donghyuck was introduced to the world. Barely a year old Mark couldn’t really comprehend what was happening when he safely placed into the kangaroo bag was taken to Lees to celebrate and as his mom recalls, that night they were being so loud that almost police was called into. But the loudest was Donghyuck, his cries overpowered their screams of joy when he started to wail in fear, frightened by overexcited adults. At the end of the story Mark’s mom always finished with a sad smile, tears each time dangerously close to spilling, retelling that baby Mark with a lot of interest and judgment even, watched the adults desperate tries to calm down the crying newborn and after observing for a while with his round curious eyes he, with a lot of struggle, crawled towards Ms. Lee, who confused by his antics took him into her lap regardless. And this is how Mark found himself snuggling against Donghyuck, momentarily cutting his cries short.

And only after that faithful night it seemed that their lives truly had started, their souls finally found each other. Two halves became one as the invisible thread bonded them, connecting them to levels outsiders of their little bubble couldn’t decode.

After that, it’s always been Minhyung and Donghyuck, Donghyuck and Minhyung since-walking hands in hands across the shore.

Years went by and they grew older, together, their bond just got stronger and stronger as each day went by, Minhyung naturally took the role of an older, protective brother, stopping hyperactive Donghyuck from putting himself into dangerous situations, sometimes went a bit overboard with scolding, made the kid cry hot tears numerous of times. But at the end of the day, they always made up because just the thought of being separated from each other was enough to give them nightmares.

Donghyuck was irreplaceable for Minhyung, he was his first-ever friend, been around through his first footsteps into the wide world, always following behind like a loyal puppy. When Minhyung said his first-word Donghyuck was lying next to him, blubbering through drool, trying to mimic the older. When Minhyung made his first step, Donghyuck was watching him from the high chair, eyes shining with curiosity. When Minhyung first learned to read, it became his second nature to read fairy tales to the baby. Donghyuck was around all of his early stages, experiencing his firsts with him along the way, always next to him. The kid has been around him for so long that it was hard to imagine growing up without him.

It was the same for Donghyuck, even more so, Minhyung was his whole world, his day started and finished with him, making the kid fully depended on older. It was Minhyung, the only person who could calm hysterical Donghyuck down, Minhyung was the one he searched for when he was hurt when he was happy and the latter always was waiting for him with open arms, ready to console or share his excitement with him. Sometimes even Donghyuck’s mom questioned if Donghyuck loved Minhyung more than his own mother, cackling as she retold the story of the infamous Donghyuck’s first-word incident. By her words when she heard little Donghyuck burbling 'M' over and over again, she got all excited thinking that his first word obviously would be ‘Mom' but oh to her surprise when Donghyuck babbled what sounded much like Minhyung. His speech clearly was slurred and sounded more like gibberish than an actual word but she swore that her son’s first word was Minhyung.

They went through all ups and downs together, shed first tears of sadness and joy together, covered their tiny bodies with scratches and bruises together on the way of their never-ending adventures, learned how to give and receive love back, the responsibilities that came with caring about your loved ones and other at that time seemingly meaningless stuff, like riding the bicycle, learning how to swim and thousands other moments Mark wished little Minhyung hadn’t just taken for granted. Because Minhyung assumed that there would be thousands of more moments like these, you never think that the last time is the last. He thought there will be more. He thought they had _forever_ , he thought he had a long journey to go with Donghyuck, but the universe had other plans.

But how could Minhyung know that time was ticking, counting their days down? And it was already too late to react when the last grain of sand ran out.

Mark doesn’t know how long he had stayed inside the shower, just sitting in a fatal position as each drop burned his flushed skin and the humidity in the small space was enough to make it hard to breathe, to suffocate him but he couldn’t bring himself to stand up, to fight back his tears from slipping, to stop himself going back to vulnerable little Minhyung once more.

An overwhelming feeling of grief, feeling of guilt dig their claws way back deep into his heart, squeezing it and scratching it, leaving more scars behind in reminisce of his past mistakes, the regret he had to carry through his whole life.

It all started and finished on August 10th of 2005, fifteen years back when Mark had just turned six and Donghyuck was five. At that time Mark remembers thinking he was all grown up, taking his older brother role more seriously and Donghyuck without any complaints got along with it, letting the older take care of him, guide, and teach him. That night nothing seemed out of the ordinary, the whole neighborhood gathered together to play hide and seek, parents had no idea that they had a reason to be concerned, there were different age groups merged, they thought that older kids were there to keep an eye on younger, little gremlins.

Minhyung and Donghyuck were present as well. Minhyung protectively held the younger’s hand the whole time. Even during the games, Donghyuck was glued next to Minhyung, following him wherever he went. Minhyung tried many times to explain that he couldn’t do that during hide and seek but after many of Donghyuck’s cries he gave up. Kids being kids but even they realized that Minhyung and Donghyuck were inseparable so they always let them play together.

Mark may full of regrets but the choices he had made that night were the most sorrowful, unforgivable ones.

The first mistake he had make was to wander way deeper into the dangerous forest whilst taking little Donghyuck with him, only because he wanted to win after losing two rounds in a row, only because of his childish antics he put himself and Donghyuck in unnecessary danger.

The second mistake was that he was being selfish and irresponsible. When Donghyuck croaked tired “Hyung” while rubbing his sleepy little eyes, Minhyung knew he wanted to go back home, it was way past his bedtime but he decided to put the kid's needs bellow his own. When Donghyuck through yawn mumbled, “I’m sleepy min.” Minhyung pretended to not hear him. And only when Donghyuck puffed his round cheeks and stomped his legs on the ground, whining “I want to go home hyung!” Minhyung looked at him, feeling the unreasonable irritation filling him in as he gently put Donghyuck’s face into his palms, looking straight into his hooded eyes.

“Let’s play this last round and brother will take you back home, I promise.” He _promised_. But still took the kid deeper into the woods.

The third one, probably the most foolish decision was when he let Donghyuck fall asleep on his lap, his pink cheeks smashed against his shoulders as he himself proudly sat down on his perfect hiding spot, not caring that they've found themselves in the middle of nowhere.

This led to the fourth mistake, then the fifth…Which eventually led to the catastrophe awaiting them.

Mark can’t hold the sob barred inside of his throat no more so he lets his emotions flow, crash against his rib cage like surge waves during the storm, releasing and setting themselves free from the locked void of Mark’s soul. So he cries, and cries, body shaking uncontrollably as he continues to weep into his hands. The pain he feels, the regret weighing him down, crushing his bones all while the guilt eats him alive, is all too much for Mark to handle.

As if for one moment Donghyuck was with him and the next moment he was gone and only images of Donghyuck crying, him screaming at the kid, chasing him in the darkness, the terror in his doe eyes, his screech, the grip on his own arm scratching the invisible permanent scars, are the ones left behind. Then everything went dark, dead black and the only sound of the river brook was to accompany him, pulling him into the ocean of regrets, some days his head stayed up in the air able to breathe and other days he was drowning. Today was later.

Mark is torn apart by his brain trying to block the traumatic events but also there to remind him of his unchangeable mistakes. His memories are hazy, he can only remember parts of following this disaster, he can recall flashlight blinding his vision, the heart-wrenching sound of his mother cries, icy tears dripping onto his face, mixing with his blood but he isn’t all sure if it’s the reality and not yet another work of his imagination. But the image of Donghyuck’s mom, her crazy shaky eyes, her begs to tell him where her son was will haunt him till death.

Donghyuck's body was never found.

At first, Mark couldn’t understand the severity of the consequences of his actions, he just wanted to find his friend, bumping onto policemen’s legs he blocked their way, trying to help as much as he could. But surely the realization slowly sunk in, bringing nothing but torment into his life since then.

The first few months were probably the hardest for Mark, no matter where he looked Donghyuck was watching his every move through the piece of paper, even when he was staying at the hospital, even there were posters of a missing child, missing Donghyuck, smiling brightly in the photo, photo Mark’s own mom took. He remembers waking up every night in a cold sweat on the hospital bed and the poster of Donghyuck watching him from afar, his lifeless eyes burning him in shame, blaming him.

And Mark steadily realized that he indeed was the only one to take all the blame, everything was his and only his fault, every pain was caused by his reckless actions. The divorce of Lees was his fault, uncle Lee moving away was his fault, his mom losing any contract with auntie Lee was his fault, Donghyuck’s mom looking bone skinny, her eyes always bloodshot red from crying, was his fault, and most importantly it was his fault that Donghyuck went missing.

The book of regrets is once again opened, a constant reminder of what could and what could not happen if he had made different decisions that night, if only they went back home when Donghyuck asked to if only Mark didn’t fall asleep if he didn’t yell at him…Mark was stuck in this never-ending loop with no finish line at the end, a powerful spiral loss of control, a permanent heartache that forever would linger in his soul.

After he was checked out from the hospital that’s when the true horrors started. Every night Donghyuck would appear in his dreams, every night he relived the past like a broken record, each night he was so close to catching him but in the end, he always slipped away from his reach, making him wake up in a bucket of sweat, feeling the panic attack ready to consume him all.

This is when the lines between reality and fiction got blurred into the uncertainty for little Mark. It was no one-time thing for his mom to catch him talking to no one, calling out Donghyuck’s name, and crying each time she tried to convince his son that Donghyuck wasn’t there, that Donghyuck was gone _because of him_. She never added the latter but Mark knew she blamed him. Mark knew Donghyuck’s parents blamed him, he could see the hatred in Ms. Lee’s gaze. Mark knew the whole village blamed him, despised him. But no one could ever hate him more than he himself did, the hatred for himself just grow bigger as each night he had to listen to his mom cries, mourn the kid she saw as her own. And slowly the imaginary friend Donghyuck became his only friend, living in the illusive world he himself built where Donghyuck was safe and unharmed. No matter where he looked Donghyuck was there, always lurking in the corners of his room, watching him with a smile. He could hear him call out for him but as he turned he always was met with nothing. He could feel Donghyuck’s presence anywhere he went. Mark could sense that he was losing his touch with reality as days went by, that he slowly was going insane but it was what he deserved, he had to be punished for his sins.

No amount of therapy, no amount of counseling, no amount of ‘happy’ pills doctors shoved down into his throat would make him get rid of the wires wrapped around his heart and chest, tightening each time he tried to forget, to move on, he forever became a prisoner of his own mind, his past caged him, holding him in hostage. And Mark had to live with it, live with the fact that he had taken someone as precious as Donghyuck from everyone’s lives and Donghyuck himself became a thief of his joy, taking Mark’s soul with himself, leaving him only with incurable open wounds.

Mark continued to wake up every morning, continued to breathe, continued to pretend that he was doing better only for his mom’s sake.

But his mother _knew_ , mothers always know, she had to watch her son’s mental health decrease, hitting yet another low so she made a selfless decision and gave Mark back to his father in Canada.

And this is how Mark’s flipped to the next chapter of the book of regrets.

At first, it was hard, awfully so, Mark had a hard time adjusting to the new environment, too afraid to meet the world, everything seemed bigger and scarier. Mark didn’t leave his room for months.

But slowly but surely, with baby steps he learned everything all over again, he learned how to speak without stuttering after each word, learned how to stop shaking each time someone gave him a mere glance, how to smile, how to laugh, how to trust his peers. In elementary school he befriended Na Jaemin, he went every up and down with him, held out a helping hand without asking anything back, he comforted Mark the day and the night, calming him down during his tantrums, panic attacks, which still happened often but less frequent as before.

As years went by ambulance was called less and less as Mark learned how to control his emotions better, hiding them deeper into the corners of his poisonous mind.

After a while Mark faced the fact that even if he was at fault, he could nothing to change the past, he had to move on. He didn’t check the news every day anymore, didn’t read the newspaper with the dreadful feeling of awaiting for the worst. He learned how to continue to live on with the guilt and shame heaving his shoulders. He tried his best to think less about the child, blame himself less as the hope he held so tight onto weakened as each day went by. He felt terrible about the thought, but he knew that Donghyuck probably wasn’t coming back, wherever he was he could only wish that he was happy, little Mark would call this place heaven but his faith was one of many other things Mark lost belief of, he, of course, would never admit this to his parents as they still were pretty religious, but he wasn’t anymore, not after when younger him prayed every night away through hot tears, begging the god to bring his friend back but the god decided to turn a blind on him, ignored his pleas.

He cried less, his imaginary friend Donghyuck slowly faded away in reality.

Along with his imaginary friend, the image of Donghyuck also became more uncertain, before becoming completely unrecognizable. As a teen Mark couldn’t even remember his face or his personality, memoirs of the kid slowly vanished from his mind, leaving him with the only reminiscence of his voice, his high pitched, a nasal voice which called his name out each night, calling him Minhyung, a name he also didn’t go by anymore. Mark tried his best to leave everything back in the past, what happened in Korea on August 10th of 2005, stayed in Korea.

But you just don’t forget about your childhood friend, your first ever friend, the first-ever person who taught you how to love, how to trust, laugh and so much more.

He didn’t completely discard Donghyuck from his mind, he could never, he was too much of a coward to do so. Somewhere in the depths of his subconscious he still exists, safe and happy.

So this how current Mark lived, he honestly with all his might is attempting to enjoy his life for once because he knows better than anyone that life can turn upside down only in seconds, not giving you any time for second-guessing.

The only reminders of his past were nightmares and occasional panic attacks on which his friends gladly helped him out.

Mark will be okay, someday he will, when he finally gets the closure he will be able to close down this book and start a new one with a clean, no stained page but until that, he can do nothing but wait.

Mark without putting much thought into his mess of an appearance walks through the halls of the campus, he probably should feel embarrassed, his hair like it been struck by a thunder looks more like a demolished nest than an actual hair, dirty glasses covered with fingerprints pinned down onto his nose, his clothes all black, all baggy-is it a ketchup stain on his shirt? Well, he doesn’t care, he’s not here to impress anyone.

With a heavy groan he slumps down onto his seat, taking his notes out he quickly re-reads them, just to be sure that he remembers everything because in the end Mark is one of the best students out there, having almost a perfect GPA and even going as far as gaining a traineeship at one of the best clinics in Vancouver while only being a third year.

Mark majors in psychology which is ironic enough as taking care of his own mental health is a hell of work already but he’s determined to help others, other children like him. If Mark has a dream it’s to be a children’s therapist, in a way of paying for his sins he decided to spent his whole life serving children in help, if he couldn’t help Donghyuck he can at least try to give others a brighter future. His own personal experience with the war with your mind helps him out a lot as well. He remembers how much he appreciated his own counselors growing up so he desires to give back the same amount of kindness that he received when he was in need. He wants to be a guidance for the broken, lost kids, giving them strength during their darkest times because Mark understands better than anyone how hard is to carry such a heavy emotional baggage on your small shoulders when you’re not yet strong enough for it.

If Mark can prevent any kid from going through the hell and pain he had to, he will.

Mark scans the room, for normal eyes, the room would seem empty but not when it comes to someone as observant as Mark, he quickly catches the hunched figure sitting across the room, illuminating the corner with the dim blue light shining through an old laptop, displaying the mess made onto the seat. Papers thrown around, an empty cup of a coffee abandoned somewhere in the corner of the table. It doesn’t take very long for Mark to recognize him.

_Haechan_.

No surname, just Haechan.

Haechan, who happens to also major in psychology, sharing most of the classes with Mark and who also happens to have the same traineeship at the same clinic as Mark _and_ who happens to be his next door neighbor at the dormitory. That Haechan.

Normally they would make good friends because their roads cross so often but that wasn't the case when it came to Haechan, he seemingly took a hatred for everyone around, only focusing on his studies and mark deems that the boy probably will get a back hump at a young age because every time he gets the glimpse of him, Haechan is always hunched over his laptop in positions that can't be comfortable.

Even if Haechan and Mark take the majority of classes together and work at the same workplace, he barely sees the boy. He always is moving from one class to another, rushing out from the lectures to take the mysterious calls and at the work, he gives all of his attention and time to kids.

So why Mark is so intrigued by the boy whose hair evidently changes its color every week? At that right moment painted in pretty purple.

Humans are curious creatures so it’s one of a hardship to keep your personal life on low when you’re thrown into a large social group in the same building, where the gossip spreads faster than the speed of light. So even if Mark doesn’t know Haechan personally, never exchanged more than a word conversation with him, even he knows most of his personal information, the information he has no right to know.

You see, Haechan is an orphan, has had spent his whole life in an orphanage, which automatically places him on the lowest chain of hierarchy, immediately makes him the outcast, the black sheep in the social construct.

But Haechan isn’t your typical outsider that comes to mind when you think about that person, that has been rejected by everyone all of their life.

No, Haechan is ruthless, rude, mean even, ready to drag everyone through fires of hell only if you foolishly dare to disrespect him. Haechan is unapologetic, he doesn’t care who are you, who your parents are, about your social status, he’s ready to throw you into the dirty mud, ready to tap what’s left of your dignity to the ground, he will destroy each and every person alive who will happen to be stupidly brave enough to challenge him, he has no mercy when it comes to his peers or even to authoritarian professors.

Mark vividly remembers the day when Haechan made professor Moon chase him through the halls of campus because he was undeservedly rude to him.

It was just a normal, ordinary day. Mark was sitting in his philosophy class, minding his own business, scrolling through his phone time by time, ignoring his stressed, drained looking professor Moon who looked on the edge the moment he stepped inside the lecture room.

Then suddenly the phone rang, interrupting Moon in mid-sentence. Undeniably it was Haechan’s as it always was him rushing out from the room to take these mysterious calls. And till that very day Mr. Moon seemed unbothered by that, used to see the boy sprinting outside in the middle of his lecture, but today was different, the normally laid back professor seemed agitated, antsy the whole time and the irritating ringtone seemingly became the last push he needed to crumble down.

An exasperated groan echoed through the quiet room, startling everyone inside, Haechan included. No one was used to see professor looking so spleen especially directly towards Haechan because Haechan was an ace, the golden boy of the university with the best GPA among his peers, making everyone look relatively dumb compared to him and professors adored him, especially Mr. Moon so it was surprising to say at least to see Moon looking at the said student with so much displeasure.

Haechan gazed at his professor through knitted brows, clearly taken aback by his sudden public outburst. Mr. Moon ruffled his hair, massaging his temples he glared at the younger with unreasonable anger. “Is my subject so boring for you Haechan? Is this why your phone is my main disturbance all the time? Would you rather take these calls than listen to me? I’m still your professor Haechan and if you find my lectures so banal you’re free to leave!” He exclaimed, making the stunned students flinch and the heavy silence fall over the room.

Mark glimpsed Haechan in pure concern, worried to see the student’s reaction after this public humiliation. Yes, Haechan could be mean spirited sometimes but he had been nothing but respectful towards his professor, he certainly didn’t deserve to become a punching bag of Mr. Moon, even if the professor was aggravated, that didn’t give him an excuse to scream at his student.

Honestly, Mark doesn’t know what he was waiting to see on a male’s expression that day, maybe a trace of sadness, anger even but Haechan’s face stayed blank, empty from any emotions as he studied his professor with dead eyes. And at that point, Mr. Moon started to look shameful as he averted the heavy gaze piercing from younger’s eyes and Haechan smirked, as if he had hit the jackpot, as if he had caught the professor in the trap and was enjoying every second of it, like a predator watching the hopeless prey struggle. It probably went unnoticed by other students but Mark remembers the cold shiver that ran through his whole body when descried that bloody smile.

The smirk disappeared as fast as it arose, the stoned look found its way back on his face and after that Haechan did nothing, he didn’t speak, Mark swore he didn’t even blink. Then as if nothing, he calmly collected his belongings, as curious eyes ogled him from every corner while the professor watched him with an abashed, sorrowful expression. When he was all done he gave Mr. Moon the most guilt-tripping glance and dialed an unknown number. “Hello, Mr. Kim?” Professor’s eyes went comically wide as he gawked at his student with hopeless, begging eyes. “Sorry for disturbing so early but I wanted to ask if I could come and talk about changing one of my courses.” He spoke impassively as he walked with short, confident steps, not showing any care in the agitated look of his professor, and Mark, on the other hand, could only watch him in awe, mouth slightly agape. Haechan then absurdly stopped at his tracks, his hand already holding onto the door handle. “Why? Oh well, I gladly will explain.” He chirped way too gleefully, clearly enjoying witnessing the petrified expression flicker on Mr. Moon’s face. Haechan threw the last merciless glance, a smirk playing on his plush lips as if proving that in the end he always would have the upper hand, and with that, he calmly excused himself out of the room.

For a while the audience sat in stunned silence, their mouths agape as no one could really comprehend what had just encountered, only occasional sound of moving cars was the disturbance of the quiet room. And Mr. Moon could only stand there, utterly bewildered as his unfocused eyes stared blankly into space. After a moment or two he finally snapped out from the shock and with a hurried apology, he rushed out from the room.

The rest was history.

So this is who Haechan is, brutal, remorseless, thick-skinned, and unforgiving, make everyone walk on eggshells around him and Mark probably is a madman as he doesn’t feel even a bit intimidated by the boy, like every normal person in the university.

No, Haechan is his _hope_.

He loves watching the male from afar for his own selfish personal gains, he feels dirty doing that but he can’t stop. To his defense, Haechan reminds him much of Donghyuck as both of them are lost kids thrown into the immense world with no one to back them up, and observing Haechan gave Mark hope that somewhere in the dark where Mark couldn’t reach, maybe, just maybe Donghyuck was also alive and if so, was he searching for his parents as well? Was he searching for Mark? Was he as determined as Haechan was? Because Mark can see the flames in Haechan’s eyes, he can see the passion, the power they hold.

Or maybe Mark is just desperate.

He remembers the first time he heard that Haechan was an orphan-obviously it was Jaemin who had delivered the news as he is one of the biggest gossipers around but Mark knows he means no malice, he is just a curious person-He was left breathless as the familiar feeling of guilt weighted him down, scraping him from the inside in a reminder that it never had left, that it’s here to stay.

The next day his eyes hopelessly roamed around in a search of the boy that would fit Jaemin’s description and when his eyes finally locked with the cold, cat-like ones for a moment his heart stopped beating. Meeting a forgotten child from so close was too overwhelming, gut-wrenching for him so he cowardly averted his gaze and said nothing when he noticed people around giving the boy mix of pitiful and mocking looks.

And this was the start of Mark’s interest in the said boy.

He has this suffocating urge to _protect_ , to help the male out and the gesture is nothing but egocentric as any other times Mark shows any kind of kindness to anyone, to his friends, kids at work, it is in a way to pay for his sins as if helping others will bring Donghyuck back. He forced himself to believe that if he couldn’t save Donghyuck it was his life purpose to save everyone else around.

But the more he watched the more he learned about him. Haechan is smart, unbelievably so, he always gets the best grades without even trying hard, he’s the one always gets praised by the authorities in the university and not only that, but he’s also an amazing intern, he is the one who you will call if the kid is acting up, he is the one who can coax down any child in mere seconds, even the most disobedient ones. Everyone has his number on an emergency call and every parent goes to him for help.

But Haechan still stays humble, everyone probably will disagree with Mark wholeheartedly, but they don’t observe the boy as much as he does. People forget to note that Haechan never starts any arguments himself, it’s always the second parties who do and then victimizes themselves after Haechan ruthlessly shuts them down. Haechan knows his place, he never puts himself lower or above anyone, he’s always minding his own business. He’s independent, brave, unbiased, and strong no matter his life circumstances.

Haechan is everything Mark isn’t and he quickly understood that Haechan wasn’t someone who needed to be saved. Soon, without him even realizing at first, he started to admire the boy for different reasons, he imagined how great it would be if he was as perfect as Haechan was.

The first year he tried to befriend him, he tried talking to him, making small conversations but every time he dared to get closer to him, Haechan pushed him away, more forceful each time.

So Mark gave up soon after.

But he still studies the boy each time he gets a glimpse of his colorful locks, unreasonably excited just to see the boy. There is nothing wrong with admiring someone, the voice inside his head rings every time, always justifying his actions.

Mark hasn’t realized that he had been rudely ogling the boy this whole time. The realization only comes crashing to him when he catches Haechan eyeing him back, more intensely as in showing his dominance, telling him that he won’t hesitate to shred him into pieces, and Mark chokes onto nothing but a dry throat. He feels his anxiety rise, yet is unable to break the eye contact. The nerve-racking gaze goes through him, making bloodcurdling shiver crawl from the head to toe, tingling to his toes.

So Mark makes a rational choice and averts his gaze like he always does and clears his throat when an uncomfortable lump continues to sit in his throat.

He can only breathe again when he feels the burning eyes letting him free. With a sigh, he puts his head into his arms and watches as the room slowly fills with more students. He doesn’t dare to look at the boy the whole lecture.

“Are you guys free tomorrow?” Jeno asks and wraps his arms around Jaemin and Mark. “There is a new movie I really wanted to watch for a while now.”

Jaemin without looking up from his phone mumbles “If we won’t be mentally dead after the shift then yeah, why not?” And Mark can only nod as he distractedly gazes outside the window while they walk through the halls of the campus. It’s been a while since they all hang out, which is natural as the third year in the university is finally kicking in their asses and traineeship only adds fuel to the fire. But Mark isn’t complaining, he’s content with his life, he has amazing friends and enjoys his time spent around the kids, so even if it’s stressful, he somehow makes it manageable.

He gets a glimpse of a familiar purple hair outside and unnoticeable for his friends stops at his tracks for a second. Haechan is sitting under the tree alone, reading something as the sun shadows him from above, making his skin glisten like gold and he looks so relaxed, so different from his normal stoic persona, in some way younger, less stressed as if Mark is looking at a different person. Mark monitors as Haechan splits what looks like bread in two, crushing it in small bits and splattering them around for pigeons to eat.

And it’s rare moments like this when Mark busts Haechan red-handed doing something as sweet, as kind, unknowing for him that he’s being watched, that someone is catching him removing the mask he tirelessly wears.

It only leaves Mark with more questions, confuses him till unknown as the urge to getting know Haechan, _real_ Haechan, gets bigger and bigger each day but he can only sigh and force his eyes off from the boy and continue rushing into his hectic life.

As the sun descended through fields of the tallest blades of grass with all its orange hue, a butterfly rose to the sky, floating towards the field whereon the flower-bed wrinkled, white blanket was splayed out. The sounds of carefree laughter cohered with birds singing as the two kids’ joyful shouts overpowered the music of nature.

“No! The dragon is eating me! Help me hyung!” Donghyuck screeches and throws the plastic toy away, trying desperately to save his warrior.

Minhyung frantically bounces his own poppet up and down, mercilessly punching the poor dragon plushy. “Don’t worry! I will always protect you!” Minhyung exclaims, getting too much into the role as he continuously beats the doll to the ground.

“Will you really?” Donghyuck absurdly breaks the character in the most climactic moment and peeks at the older with curious, twinkling eyes, now all of his attention only at Minhyung. Minhyung pouts in annoyance, disappointed that Donghyuck ruined their game but then with an exaggerated sigh lies back down on the blanket and gazes at the purple sky as the night breeze leaves paper kisses all over his face. Without thinking much he mumbles. “Of course I will! Hyung will always protect you.” One part of him is offended that Donghyuck ever doubted that but the other is proud, confident that the role of a protector of Donghyuck was given to him.

Donghyuck hums through pursed lips and rolls onto his stomach, he leans his face closer to Minhyung’s as if trying to see any trace of lie flicker onto his expression but croons when he finds none. The only thing that washes over Minhyung’s face is the pretty color of pink, dusting his cheeks like a powder his mom often uses and Donghyuck doesn’t know what powers made Minhyung’s skin change into such an unnatural color but Donghyuck decides it suits him and likes him regardless, even if he will morph into a pink hybrid-like creature. “Even from the monster under your bed?” He asks teasingly, his short legs dangling in the air. He knows the best how afraid Minhyung is of the monster lingering under his bed and somewhere deep inside Donghyuck is also scared but will never admit aloud.

Minhyung thinks for a second but when he sees the disappointment crawl on the younger’s face he decides that he will be brave enough for Donghyuck. “Yes even from it! I will march against him like a knight and save you!” Minhyung waves his hands around, making gibberish of sounds as if he’s fighting the monster already.

Donghyuck narrows his eyes, not convinced yet. “What if it will eat me?” Minhyung turns his face towards the kid, giving him a dirty glace but averts immediately as he catches Donghyuck gently putting daisy behind his ear, contrasting perfectly with his red ears.

So Minhyung can only sigh in defeat. “Then I will search for you and find you.” He whispers as he gazes at the clouds, watching it change its forms but is disturbed again when Donghyuck huffs purposefully loud.

“But I will find you first!” He whines, angrily tapping his feet on the ground just to show his annoyance.

“No!” Minhyung leans on his elbows as he glares at equally irritated looking Donghyuck. “I will!” He points his small finger to his chest but Donghyuck catches him by his arm, putting his hand down on the patchy ground.

“I will!” Younger yells louder this time as if trying to prove his point but Minhyung isn’t planning to let him win this argument. There is no way in the world that Donghyuck would find him first, he’s the one who needs to be around the kid, guiding him, searching when he’s in trouble, not the other way around. “No! Told you I will! I’m your hyung don’t argue with me!”

“I will find hyung first!”

“I will!”

“I will!”

Realizing that Donghyuck wasn’t giving up and there was no use in arguing, Minhyung quickly tackles the kid to the ground, making him barely visible in the piles of wildflowers. “Okay! We will find each other at the same time!”

Donghyuck watches him with a pout, brows adorably knitted together before huffing through puffed cheeks, and nuzzles his head into Minhyung’s neck, his fluffy mess of a hair tickling him pleasantly. “Okay…But I will recognize you first.” He mumbles into his skin, making Minhyung’s blood boil with irritation again.

“No-“

“Kids, the dinner is ready!” But before he can argue, somewhere in the distance Minhyung’s mom calls out from them. They continue to glare at each other for a moment before Minhyung untangles himself from Donghyuck and standing up he puts his palm out for Donghyuck to hold and even if Donghyuck still feels very much annoyed with the older, he still, instinctively takes his hand into his own. Minhyung quickly tidies both of their clothes, dusting off the dirt, and tugs younger by his arm.

And they run through a colorful field, fingers intertwined as they feel grass scratch against their sticky skin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After much pondering, I've finally decided to post this story and I really hope everyone will enjoy reading it because I've never put so much energy into any other fanfictions before so I will gladly take any constructive criticism especially about my grammar as English isn't my first language so advises are always welcomed. You can find me on:  
> [CC](https://curiouscat.qa/Sunau03)  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Sunau0?s=09)


	2. Every day is like the same old song (until everything right goes wrong)

_“What’s your name?”_

_“Dong-“A light tug on the arm “Don’t remember.”_

Haechan flutters his eyes open with a low grunt as he lazily adjusts his vision at the white wall of the ceiling.

_He still doesn’t remember._

A soft whine leaves his lips as he stretches his sore limbs, rubbing his eyes he blinks once, twice, batting the sleep away. Feels the throbbing headache coming with a force the more he thinks, the more he tries to remember.

As he fully regains his conspicuous the name once again becomes foreign for his ears, gets lost somewhere in the fog of broken memories. The _unnamed_ name leaves a bitter taste aftermath, slips off from his tongue painfully, and completely diminishes from his mind without leaving any trace behind only enveloping him with an odd kind of noiselessness.

He rests his eyes once more for few more seconds and inhales a short intake of heavy breathes, not trying to mask the irritation and the disappointment that lingers after his rare dreams, the last lost bits of his memories which throughout the years proved to not be so useful.

He shakes his head and swiftly hops off from the bed, placing his feet onto the cold floor he finally forces himself to stand straight inside his cold, lonely house. 

Humming, he swirls around his soulless apartment as he gets ready for his banal routine.

_I keep dancing on my own._

And only his light crooning is there as an intruder of the constant quietness of the four walls.

Mouthful he munches on the pancake as he adjusts his blouse in the mirror, carefully, without wrinkling the fabric, he folds it inside his pants. He turns his body around, perceiving his appearance for a minute before groaning and forcefully tugging the backpack off the floor.

“I’m going.” He shouts into the void room and when he gets the usual soundless response he exits his cold apartment.

Rocking back and forth he listens to soft crunching sounds of fallen leaves beneath. He inhales the smell of autumn’s fresh, crisp, cool, and clear aroma and gazes at the busy street that narrates so many unsaid stories. Watches as cars wheel into the hectic life. Listens to dogs bark mixed with shopmen’s shouts. Observes the emotions playing on people crossing the street, someone unknown to each other, all of them marching determined to their destination. Happiness, the weeping of loneliness, sadness, and all are overfilled here. Surveys little children running around, holding onto their parents’ hands.

Sighing, he forces his eyes off with a lump, heavy feeling knitting inside his throat but thankfully the bus arrives just on time, not letting him to dwell so early in the morning. Putting his playlist on, he lazily steps inside.

He buries chin onto his fist and thoughtlessly dazes outside the window-he always preferred that way, watching the life unfold behind the glass. The bus starts and the world motions, everything blurs with one another and so Haechan closes his eyes as the scooting melody softens his nerves.

Haechan lumbers inside the campus, greets the guard on his way with a small bow who sprawled onto his seat gives him a lazy yet polite wave.

With sluggish steps he walks inside the crowded hall, heart picking up a peace every time he bumps into someone so in an attempt of distraction he decides to gaze outside the window instead and he hurries his steps through the mass.

But the amount of people crumpled together in a suffocating space doesn’t let Haechan’s plans go as smoothly as he wishes to and so a forceful shove by his shoulders makes him dart his eyes off the red scenery outside the cage-like building.

The more he looks the narrower the corridor gets, looking impossible to reach the end. The scheme inside is dull grey, befogged by many shadows of the faceless students. Feeling trapped morphs an irking sensation to sit weighty inside of his stomach.

“Hey, Haechan!” The feminine voice reaches to his side and with a quick glance he recognizes the familiar blonde hair. The young woman smiling not so authentically is Emma Wilson, age 21, who shares a few classes with him.

Only remembers his existence when she needs notes or has any other favor to ask to. 

_Not trustworthy._

Haechan mentally crosses her with an invisible black x mark but greets her with a mere nod nonetheless.

He puts music louder this time, pumping up his ears as takes wide, quick steps but again is blocked by a tall figure on his way.

Jacob Roy, he is only nice to people he can use in the future.

Another x mark is painted on yet another student and before Haechan knows the whole room is splattered with x marks, dulling the room even more.

Almost running he frantically squeezes himself out from the crowd only to be shoved behind yet again with a stronger bump than before.

Glare on his way to crawling on his face he looks up at the causer of his disturbance and is met with familiar crystal clear black round eyes that seemingly always twinkle with purity.

“Oh.” He says unintelligently. “I’m sorry.” Yet politely. 

Mark Lee, age 21, shares almost every class with him, also a psychology major, trainee at the same clinic, and his next-door neighbor as a cherry on top.

Haechan narrows his eyes, searching for any slip in Mark’s eyes, dishonesty, or perhaps anything to prove Haechan’s point that he also similar to everybody else in this room is untrustworthy but only finds a huge question mark inked on a said boy who just gazes at him expectedly, waiting for Haechan to muster a response. 

But it never comes as one of Mark’s friend, Na Jaemin if he remembers correctly shows up in between them out of nowhere, tugging Mark away.

Haechan watches as Mark is dragged inside the crowd and after a bat or two he turns around.

Mark Lee is weird Haechan thinks. But what’s even weirder is the dislike he found himself having towards the male. Mark Lee is a good student, with great grades, seemingly has good friends, and has never found himself in unnecessary drama. Even towards Haechan, he had been nothing but nice, even tried to start a conversation with him a few times only to give up after Haechan blatantly pushed him off. In someone else's eyes, Mark Lee would be perfect, the goody two shoes but Haechan can't help but feel an overwhelming irritation towards the boy.

Mark does nothing in particular to annoy Haechan, he just…

Haechan slowly turns his head back again only to be met with the same raven eyes again.

_He just watches._

No matter where he looks he finds these ash eyes following him behind.

Anywhere he goes he feels his eyes burn into his skull not so shamefully. During the lecture, at the library, in the clinic, no matter how far Haechan runs, he is always watching.

And there is something in the way he looks at him that Haechan can’t pinpoint what. He can’t find pity or dislike inside these black orbs. The emotions his gaze holds is something Haechan can’t put the name of and it irks every nerve inside of him.

Mark catches himself red-handed by instinct at this point so he quickly looks away. 

He always does that, averting gaze like a coward he is.

Mark Lee may not be fake or two-faced like most of the students out here but he is a coward Haechan concludes.

Haechan never has seen him argue, any trace of irritation to show up on his face; he just goes with the flow. He’s a coward, that’s what he is, and that’s why Haechan found himself disliking the male.

But the question mark stays plastered on his head as he disappears inside the crowd full of x marks but Haechan is too exhausted to think further.

“No, I’m not buying you a knife for your birthday!”

“But it’s pretty!” Mark sighs as he listens to his idiotic excuse of friends argue about the same topic for the past fifteen minutes. Why Jaemin has a weird obsession with knives he will never understand and honestly, he doesn’t know if he has to fear for his life.

“No!” Jeno screams, successfully gaining everyone’s attention on the street and Mark thinks that even if he loves his friends dearly the public humiliation isn’t worth it so he walks past them, ahead of them, acting as if he’s not associated with them.

“But those are decorative.” Jaemin whines once more, slurping irksomely loud on his coffee just to be annoying.

Mark notes Jeno’s brow twitch and it takes a very obnoxious person to make Lee Jeno so aggravated. “Just because they’re pretty doesn’t mean they are not knives.” And Jaemin grumbles like the child he is but Mark decides to ignore them, he still acting like years of their friendship never existed. 

“Oh isn’t it Haechan?” Suddenly Jaemin exclaims and the mention of his name makes Mark whip his head so fast that he can hear the bones in his neck crack.

Mark looks at the direction which Jaemin not so politely is pointing at and sees Haechan standing in the middle of the street, handing what looks like flayers.

He smiles politely each time before handing the papers and it looks so weird to see him being nice but he probably would be fired if he acted like his normal self, or maybe not, Mark is sure Haechan would find his way to stay.

He exhales heavily as he slurps on his smoothie and watches Haechan go from one person to another. “I swear he’s not human.” Jaemin declares. “He’s a robot, not a human.” And Mark looks at him dumbfounded. The way Jaemin’s brain works he will never understand.

“And how did you end up on this conclusion?” Mark asks as they finally start walking again; he doesn’t forget to throw few last glances at Haechan before he completely disappears from his vision.

“He’s a trainee at the clinic, has the best grades, and is also working? There is the amount of stress a normal human being can handle which he surely isn’t.”

“Maybe he’s a witch?” Jeno muses and he sounds way too serious for blabbering something like this and Mark can't even pinpoint if he's joking or not so he just groans and hurries his steps to get away from them.

Mark haltingly steps through the halls of the clinic, his head slumped down and hands fidgeting into his pockets as the bright, white walls sting his eyes making the faces of the crowd blend.

He isn’t very keen on greeting his coworkers alone but due to Jaemin his self-proclaimed best friend who before his own job always accompanies Mark has decided to ditch him, Mark has to plaster the 'customer friendly' smile as each of the doctors and nurses pass by in a blur, greeting him as forcefully polite as him himself.

He exhales heavily, the journey towards the changing room takes longer than usual, the more he walks the longer the hall becomes, or maybe it’s just the illusion caused by these damned white walls, or maybe Mark is just sleep-deprived.

On his way, he meets a few of the regular kids, held tightly by their parents, and this time Mark smiles more genuinely, greeting them cheerfully and fist-bumping in a way of a goodbye.

Mark loves his job- _technically_ it’s not a real job as he isn’t being paid yet but he prefers to reference it as it- He loves working with kids, adores each and every one of them, loves listening to them ramble whilst digging deeper into their minds, connecting the invisible dots and trying to find solutions for their problems.

And the determination is the only thing that makes his already packed student life bearable, he may love to whine like a big baby he is but he never complains about his job, he knows what he signed up for.

Too lost in his thoughts he doesn’t notice the figure walking out from the changing room, causing Mark to bump into them rather harshly.

It takes a while for gears to start working in his brain and to process what just has happened but the next thing he knows is that he’s looking down on the floor at Haechan with wide, panicky eyes as the said boy glares back, his eyes narrowed tight.

Yet another moment of Mark’s uselessness pass by before he realizes that he should probably help the male to stand up but before he can muster the thought Haechan is already standing up, dusting his clothes and with a tired sigh he calmly collects his belongings which ended up sprawled across the floor. 

This time Mark is quick to think as he swiftly falls onto his knees, which for sure will bruise from the impact, and helps to gather Haechan’s papers, putting them together neatly. “Here!” He holds his hands out, shoving towards Haechan’s direction whose eyes haven’t softened even for a bit, still holding the irritation beneath, making Mark flinch. “Sorry about that.” He squeaks weakly, anxious to be caged in a heavy gaze but Haechan doesn’t speak, he just closes his eyes and inhaling deeply finally takes papers out from Mark’s reach and with that walks away.

Mark’s eyes never leave Haechan’s form before he becomes smaller and smaller as he walks further into the never-ending hall. And only when he disappears behind the white wall, Mark breathes out, and shaking his head he finally forces himself off the floor.

Screw what he had said before, Haechan is scary and every bit of Mark is intimidated by him.

Mark with slumped shoulders walks out from Dr. Jaehyun’s room with armful stacks of papers, Jaehyun was particularly gracious today, giving Mark as much as of tasks as possible, not pitying the already stressed-out student.

Mentally weeping he goes through his today’s schedule, already feeling drained out.

Working with kids obviously is hard as they can be pretty unpredictable, lacking logic when it comes to their distress but after a month or two Mark got used to sudden outbursts of tantrums.

At his workplace, Mark has met numerous kids with complex personalities. There are shy, unsocial, introverted ones but thankfully most of the time they are easiest to handle thanks to their quiet, passive personalities.

But there are also disobeying, restless and violent ones putting much stress on doctors and everyone around. But they are only kids and it’s their job to help with whatever is bothering them, so Mark has no right to complain.

And as Mark hears shriek ringing through the hall he quickly realizes that today is one of the days when a kid doesn’t compromise with anyone around and with hurried steps follows the sound of the cries.

As he bolts inside the play-room it doesn’t take him long to recognize the kid glued to the corner, whipping a metallic toy from side to side as a weapon each time doctors try to get closer to him.

His name is Jonathan, the worst case of all. From first glance, the kid looks harmless, frail like a feather as he stays bone skinny no matter how much he eats and Mark, like everyone else has been fooled by his appearance at first but quickly learned that his personality was a total opposite.

Jonathan is dealing with a lot of behavioral problems, making him the hardest kid to handle as none of the tricks ever work on him every time he goes in episodes of rage. His mood swings are always unmanageable, always out of the blue. One moment he can be playing with other kids and the next thing you know he’s already latched on someone, hitting and biting them.

And as for now, doctors still can’t unravel the child’s triggers but as Mark heard the cause of his distress is supposedly attachment issues. Even if his adoptive parents are nothing but loving, as supportive as they can with a misbehaved child there is still a lot they don’t know about their son, of his past household, or about his biological parents and observing his behavior, it was very unlikely that the child came from the healthy family.

And even now Mark’s heart aches at the sight of the tear-stained face of a kid, the fear in his doe eyes makes him wonder what kind of monsters lurk behind the closed doors that are ready to hurt vulnerable, innocent little kids.

But his thoughts are cut short when something that looks like a book flies dangerously close to his face, almost hitting him and only then he notices the huge crowd gathered around the scene. From the corner of his eyes, he sees the familiar purple hair and watches as Haechan tightly holds Sophia, one of the regulars, closer to his chest and murmurs something, and soon after places her gently on the floor. He tenderly takes her face into his palms and whispers what is impossible for Mark to hear but he sees the girl nod, still gazing at Haechan who then with hurried steps disappears into the crowd.

Mark turns his head towards the unfolding chaos again, Jonathan is still hiding in the corner and his cries get louder each time someone steps closer to him. Mark watches as Dr. Jaehyun tiptoes behind the raging kid, probably trying to take him into his arms but Jonathan is quick to sense that, jumping away from his reach he latches onto the nurse’s arm.

They go back and forth for a while, the doctor desperately trying to catch the kid and Jonathan pacing around, hiding behind the nurse and forcefully swinging her body side to side.

Then everything goes in a blur, Mark doesn’t know when or how Jonathan ends up pushed down onto the floor but after a minute of pure silence as the kid watches everyone with a bewildered expression, Mark sees the fear, the real terror wash over in child's eyes and so he screams throaty, mixing with even louder sobs.

“What is wrong with you?” Haechan’s roar startles Mark and everyone else in the room. Mark looks at the male, shaken to see the boy so alarmed, he finds him glaring directly at the nurse in both disbelief and anger.

And Mark can only watch shell-shocked as many expressions morph onto the male’s face. Throughout knowing him for three years Mark has never seen Haechan so unnerved, never seen emotions get the best of him, he’s always collected but today is different. He looks as much frightened as Jonathan does and Mark can’ really comprehend why.

Haechan’s outburst was enough to cut the kid’s cries short for a while. He gazes at Haechan, who still is standing in the center fists his hands tightly, and his chest heaves with each taken short, unsteady breath. With a huff he makes a step towards the child but the kid shrieks, taking one of the toys into his hands again, aiming, and ready to throw it at Haechan.

“Please calm down.” Haechan pleads weakly and makes yet another step but the kid stumbles further into the wall, hugging himself. “I won’t hurt you.” He eyes the boy worriedly, lovingly, fondly, and understandingly.

Mark gawks, seeing Haechan so full of emotions is one of the rare sights.

Haechan quickly scans for possible injuries on the kid, yet still keeping the distance between. He sighs in relief when he sees none but Jonathan is yet to calm down, his still screaming from the top of his lungs and punching the air as his wails get so loud that his voice breaks, making him go into a choking fit, gasping for air.

Haechan uses his chance and jumps towards the kid a decision which he quickly learns wasn’t the brightest one as Jonathan kicks him painfully into his shin, making him kneel with a yelp. 

As Haechan falls to the ground the kid throws at him everything his fingers can reach to and doctors are ready to interlude when suddenly Haechan gently holds the boy’s tensed arms and dazes straight into the frightened eyes of the boy. “I know you don’t want to hurt me, Jonathan, so please calm down.” He says as he fists his hand and then slowly opens his palm, which unconsciously the kid follows along soon after. “See, it’s not hard. I know you’re angry but I want you to try to calm down, okay? Can you do that?” And Haechan speaks so calmly, clearly knows what he’s doing.

Jonathan’s face is still boiling red but as Haechan starts demonstrating breathing exercises the kid slowly but surely follows along, inhaling deep breathes and exhaling even heavily. “Are feeling okay now?” Haechan muses with a soft tone, still crunched down on the floor and he gazes at the child on the same eye level and it takes a bat or two before Jonathan nods hesitated, guilt crawling its way on his tear-stained face but Haechan just smiles. “You did great.” And ruffles the messy locks of the child who just stands there for a minute, rocking back and forth, his lips pursed as he chews down on his bottom lip, and then to everyone’s surprise the kid sprints towards Haechan, caging him in a breathtaking embrace and it takes even Haechan by surprise visible by how he stumbles back, almost losing balance but then he just sighs though tired smile and takes the boy protectively into his arms.

Carefully he stands up and with hesitant steps walks away as Jonathan nuzzles his face further into his nape, hiding from judging eyes.

Haechan slowly moves towards the but doesn't forget to throw a piercing glance towards the nurse who visibly flinches.

And with that Haechan disappears from the crowd.

Mark just stands there for a while, too lost in this trance-like state. He’s frozen to his place like a statue even if after the crowd splits apart, leaving him standing dumbly alone in the room.

Never in Mark’s life would he imagine seeing so many various emotions morph onto Haechan. On emotionless, dead-eyed, Haechan.

Haechan always has been great with kids, sure. But never during these past few months had he lost his cool. There was something different in Haechan’s gaze today. As if he knew something that others didn’t and Jonathan must have felt that as well speaking from the reaction.

Mark sighs, no matter how much he looks, Haechan is a mystery he can’t crack even if he really tries to.

The moment he puts his nose outside later in the evening Mark is immediately struck by an icy breeze, making the shivers go down to his spine.

He huffs, zips his jacket fully, and with frozen limbs forces himself to walk.

Don’t drive your motorcycle Jaemin said. It’s going to rain _he said_. It will be dangerous to drive on a slippery road his mess of a best friend said. And Mark like aloof believed in his words which makes him even more annoyed with the whole situation he found himself into.

Rubbing his palms in a search of any kind of warmth he carefully walks down the street. Now thanks to Jaemin he has to go back to the dorm on the bus. Great, as if the day wasn’t stressful enough now he also has to worry not to freeze to death.

Sitting in the fatal position he fully covers his body with his oversized jacket, rocking back and forth he waits for the bus to arrive, which as in to spite Mark decided to take all the time in the world to arrive. Suddenly dying from hypothermia doesn’t sound so bad.

Music blasting through his earphones for the distraction doesn’t help either so with a groan he harshly removes them, now fully focusing on warming himself up.

From the corner of his eyes, he notes a figure standing next to him. When he looks up it doesn’t take long to recognize the vibrant purple mop that contrasts so much with color-wiped, grey scenery. He visibly jolts and quickly averts his gaze before he can be noticed.

But he can’t stop himself from throwing few glances here and there, the images of today’s whole fiasco replaying in his brain like a movie. The longer he gazes the more uncertain he becomes to what hides behind the stoic mask Haechan puts on every day.

Haechan seemingly doesn’t notice him, or Mark hopes so but then he audible groans only Mark to hear making Mark flinch once more before looking away with cheeks slowly coloring bright pink in an embarrassment to be caught ogling like a creep.

Fortunately for him, the bus arrives just on the time and before he can embarrass himself furthermore he basically flies inside the bus, startling the driver in the process.

He heavily slumps down onto his seat and puts the most melancholic and scooting song he can find. With that he leans his face onto the window and through the fogged glass watches as Haechan takes a seat a few rows behind, clearly avoiding him. And Mark can only sigh and close his eyes as the song lulls him to much-needed sleep.

Haechan is annoyed to say at least. Today’s been the most stressful day in this semester so far, he wants nothing but to sleep his worries away but here he is overthinking and one boy with shimmery eyes sitting seats ahead is no help either.

What Mark could possibly need from him? No matter how many scenarios play in his mind and from what side he looks he never concludes the answer. Mark obviously doesn’t need help when it comes to his academic activities nor at the clinic, he handles everything just perfectly fine. From what Haechan observed he doesn’t have any hard feelings towards himself either. So what possibly could be a reason for his doe eyes always following his every step? Should he feel concerned? At this point, Haechan doesn’t know and the feeling of uncertainty gives Haechan nothing but a headache.

Not realizing that he had been staring at the calm form of the boy sprawled across the cold, dirty window for longer than it not consider as creepy he quickly averts his gaze outside the window. Frown visibly forming onto his face as he grimaces both on unsanitary habits of the male and how doubtful he makes Haechan feel.

The whole road he aggressively nibs onto his bottom lip as he fails to concentrate on the music playing in his earphones and as he throws short glances at the sleeping boy the anxiety just gets bigger.

Mark thinks he had made the right decision when he let Haechan walk away ahead of him and for him to follow back with unhurried steps behind. Because both of them are uncomfortably aware of each other’s presence and have the same place to reach it makes the walk towards their dorm rather awkward. So, Mark finds himself stopping at his tracks from time by time, trying his best not to get too close to Haechan and happen to walk next to him- that for sure will make the situation even more unpleasant than it already is.

But then Mark notices Haechan limp slightly as he agitatedly drags his right leg onto the ground, clearly trying to quickly get away. And for a moment Mark stops walking and gazes at the male through a frown as Haechan with a struggle tries to make his visible limp go unnoticed. Mark inhales heavily as he finds a feeling of odd worry drop inside of his stomach. But as he watches Haechan hobble even faster, probably already caught up on being watched, Mark averts his gaze with a sigh, not wanting to agitate the already troubled male more.

Mark decides to put his mind onto something else, so childishly he jumps onto the paving setts trying not to step over the lines. 

Haechan on the other hand through gritted teeth forces himself to flounce but the pain in his leg slowly gets unbearable with each step he takes. He feels utterly embarrassed only by the thought that he’s being watched as he humiliates himself with his pathetic attempts to cover up his limp. Even if he senses that Mark isn’t looking at his direction anymore he still feels overwhelming mortification to be seen so weak. Not only he feels degraded but the anger slowly boiling inside of him is hard to contain, angry because the moment weather drops even a Celsius lower his injured leg starts to hurt by unexplainable pain.

Haechan can feel his skin break from how tight he had fisted his hands; colors from his knuckles had been completely wiped off and morphed into nothing but white. He tries to take few short breaths in an attempt to calm his raging heart that stabs him with each beat but everything just gets worse as his mind is here to remind him how _pathetic_ he must look right now in Mark’s eyes and the distinct sound of steps following him behind, added with the pain he has to hold is enough to make Haechan finally snap.

So he swiftly whips around and visibly frightens Mark. “Mark Lee do you have anything to ask me?” through gritted jaw he drawls stoically a question he wanted to ask so long.

Mark gazes at him dumbfounded for a blink of a moment, clearly taken aback before slowly points a finger to himself. “Are you talking to me?” He asks dumbly.

“Is there anyone else called Mark Lee?” Haechan narrows his eyes furthermore getting agitated to quickly get the answers for his never-ending questions.

“I mean…Probably?” And the sound of Haechan clicking his tongue is enough to make gears function normally in Mark’s brain and so logically he panics. “But obviously you’re talking to me.”

Haechan nods, crossing his arms he tilts his chin upwards a bit and he tries his best to balance his body on his injured leg. “So? Do you have anything to tell me? Or perhaps you have some problem with me?”

Haechan tries his best to be patient but Mark looks like fish thrown onto the ground, gasping for air as Mark opens and closes his mouth without mustering a solid answer. “I? Me, no? what? I don’t have any problem with you?” And even if Haechan is curious as to why Mark looks so hurt and even offended by his declare he has no desire to emphasize with the male so he preys deeper.

“Then why do you always-“

“Mark, my love!” They’re interrupted by an obnoxiously loud nasal voice coming from behind and seconds later Mark is embraced in a tight hug.

“Jaemin get off of me!” Mark groans but Jaemin just laughs it off but then he finally senses Haechan’s presence, so his before warm grin quickly drops.

“Oh…Hello Haechan!” He chirps but even a kid can tell how fake it sounded so Haechan just sighs and mutters ‘whatever’ under his breath and with that turns around and walks hurriedly towards the dormitory, limping even more. “What’s up with him?” Jaemin muses through pursed lips but yelps when Mark not so gracefully drops him down on the cold ground.

Mark huffs in annoyance, dusts the invisible dirt off from his clothes before glancing towards Haechan’s direction who is nowhere to be seen.

Mark sighs and takes his hand out for Jaemin to hold who still is comfortably sitting on the filthy ground. “Today has been pretty hectic in the clinic.” Mark retells today's incident as they slowly head towards the building, Jaemin hums time by time just to show that he's still listening. “Speaking of injuries do you have any painkillers? You know how sometimes my arm hurts when it gets cold.” Mark mumbles and unknowingly rubs his damaged limb and Jaemin nods in response, carefully patting Mark’s shoulder in comfort. 

_I stay up all night_

_Tell myself I'm alright._

Mark croons and gazes with his wrenched soul and exhausted body at the countless stars in the dark, dead night as his fingers lazily play on the strings.

_Every night I'm dancing with your ghost._

He sighs, cutting his sings short because he understands that he’s going into dangerous territory so carefully he places the guitar against the wall and putting his knees closer to his body he leans his chin into his arms and continuously dazes at the faded moon.

Wordlessly he continues to hum the melody and closes his eyes, enjoying the light breeze that touches his cold skin.

But as the heavy, unknown feeling doesn’t vanish from his bones he glances at the clock that reads midnight and debates if it’s a really good idea to go outside at this godly hour.

But having no other better option to cool his mind he forces himself off from the floor and puts trousers on and gets ready for his usual night walk.

The moment he walks outside the apartment he is immediately thrown away by the coldness of the night, the icy wisp immediately tints his nose pink and so with a grumble he walks towards the stairs while he tries to untangle his earphones that knotted into a big ball. 

As he slowly walks down the stairs-potentially not to slip and stumble his way down-is when he hears frantic footsteps echoing through thick walls. And for one moment he’s looking around for the source of the loud noise and the next minute someone falling right into his arms.

Mark takes a moment to process what has occurred, his eyes dazed, look blankly into space before he forces himself to shake out from shock and looks down only to be met with familiar purple hair.

“Haechan?” He asks unsure, the person still is breathing heavily, holding tightly onto Mark, probably as stunned as he himself is. If not Mark being the unluckiest man to walk on earth Haechan most likely would fall right onto his face and break his nose as a minimum, so at least there was some use from Mark.

Mark gives Haechan a few more seconds to gather himself, the boy seemingly snaps out of the haze and absurdly jumps back, his eyes wide in shock but slowly gets to normal cat-like ones as he recognizes the familiar face.

“I, I’m sorry.” Haechan stutters, his voice weak, abnormally soft and for a moment Mark thinks that he’s sleeping-that he had taken his obsession with the said boy to another level-because seeing Haechan looking so small and bothered is all too bizarre for Mark.

“Are you okay?” Mark asks unsure as he tilts his head to the side to observe the male better and Haechan evidently tenses up more. His eyes helplessly roam around as his body twitches restlessly. And it takes him time to fully gather his thoughts and when he does he finally looks up at Mark with his forced, usual stoic expression but Mark can see the mask crack as Haechan’s lip wobbles with wordless worry. 

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “I’m fine.” His voice going back to normal monotone one but again Mark isn’t an easy one to fool, and as he watches the boy more the better he sees the agitation painted all over his face and the way his eyes glisten in the dark is telling Mark a completely different story.

Haechan looks around, lip caught between his lips as his leg unconsciously taps on the floor “I left something at the work.” Haechan blurts out before he can stop himself, he had no intention of telling the boy the truth but the emotional turmoil going inside of him got the best of him.

“Oh.” Mark muses intelligently before his eyes drop onto his watch, indicating the lateness of the night. “I can drop you by if you want?” He asks timidly, rubbing the back of his head, unsure if it was the right thing to ask. 

After hearing the offer Haechan bites down onto his lip even more violently because taking the suggestion doesn’t sound so pleasant but the time is ticking and the longer _it_ stays out of his reach the closer he is breaking down in hysterics right now and there.

And so inhaling a shaky breath and putting his pride to the side he looks at Mark “Okay.” Is the only thing he mumbles before sprinting outside. Mark follows him soon after.

“So it’s a motorcycle,” Haechan notes the evident, unamused as he glares at the machine glistening under the moonlight.

“Yeah? What else does it look like?” Haechan scoffs nervously at the obvious truth. He chews down his fingernails as his eyes shake at the sight of a coffin on wheels.

“When you said you could drive I had an idea of a car, you know, 4 wheels, roof ahead, with airbags, _actually safe to drive!_ ” His voice jumps pitch higher in the last sentence. Embarrassed he clears his throat and gives Mark a dirty look. And Mark? He is very much offended, he drives pretty well, thank you very much.

“I drive excellent and very safe too for your information,” Mark says still sulky, sounding childish and he hastily puts a helmet on Haechan, on which he obviously yelps in protest. Haechan looks ridiculous and he doesn’t need a mirror to know that, his head is way too small compared to the headgear-his already bad posture slumps few more inches down.

Mark checks the helmet for the last time, closing the chin strap with a loud click but still worried about the safety of the male he grabs it by his hands and shakes lightly just to make sure that it sits nicely, protecting Haechan from any possible harm. In response Haechan huffs in annoyance, fogging the shield. “That’ it!” Mark claps his hands, beaming at the clearly joyless boy. “We are ready to go!” Haechan grumbles something under his breath which Mark can’t make out what because Haechan’s voice is muffled through thick layers of the safety headwear.

Mark hops on the motorcycle and pats the backseat, gesturing Haechan to sit down and Haechan stands there for few more seconds, regretting every life choice that has to lead him to this very moment. He then remembers the main reason why he was in that situation, to begin with so he basically jumps on the motorcycle.

“What about you? You’re not wearing a helmet.” Haechan practically screams as his voice is not only blocked by the helmet but also by loud rev noise as the engineer starts off, buzzing the ground, making vibrations go through Haechan’s body.

“Don’t worry about me, as I said I'm a great driver.” Mark assures with a smile, more like a smirk, clearly taking a liking in Haechan’s distress.

“Well, I will be the one to judge!” Haechan bites back, shield fogging once again, Mark just rolls his eyes back, still smiling through.

He guides Haechan’s arms to his waist, holding him close as he pats his fisted hands in a comforting manner. “Hold on tight!” Is the last thing he says, more like shouts before taking off and he swears he hears Haechan squeal as his arms hold dear life on him, squeezing Mark in a death grip, rumpling his shirt in the process.

But Mark just chuckles as he drives into a dead night.

Haechan makes a choked sound as Mark finally removes the heavy helmet off from his head, he inhales a deep breath. Who could have known it would be so hard to breathe in this damn thing.

Mark giggles at the disheveled appearance of the boy, his purple hair is sticking out in different directions, face tinted in unhealthy red, eyes big, as he dazes blankly into space, swinging from side to side, still high on the adrenaline.

“I'm never doing this again.” He mumbles, his speech slurred a bit, still looking dazed but his expression again quickly changes into a worried one, and before Mark knows he’s already rushing inside the building.

Mark ponders if he should turn around and leave now but as the images of Haechan being in much dismay rolls back to his vision and few raindrops fall onto his skin, it washes his doubts away so he follows him inside. 

It doesn’t take long for Mark to enter the clinic but by the time he walks inside the changing room, Haechan already had managed to make a mess.

Haechan throws a white coat in his direction which surprisingly Mark manages to dodge.

He can hear the male breath frantically as she shuffles inside other’s belongings. Haechan groans as he throws someone else’s shoes to the side and goes to another corner and Mark can do nothing but follow him around as Haechan crawls onto the floor.

“Um, what are you searching for?” He asks unsure, making Haechan freezes momentarily at the spot and when he whips his head towards Mark his expression is telling that he had completely forgotten about him or maybe he didn’t even expect Mark to follow him inside. Mark can feel himself getting anxious in a heavy gaze that Haechan has trapped him in.

Haechan’s brows knit together and his lip once again finds itself being caught between his teeth “A necklace.” He hushes above the whisper and squeezes his fists that begin to tremble. The emotions that built upon him are so close to bursting out from his ribcage and being seen in this state only adds stress on Haechan. Overwhelmed by sentiments he feels like suffocating and he’s sure that one judging look from Mark would be enough for him to collapse but Mark just nods, without questioning furthermore, he joins him on the floor wordlessly.

The more they search the more sick Haechan gets Mark notes, he isn’t as collected as before, his fingers shake viciously and his legs look like giving up every time he tries to stand up. Mark is afraid that Haechan is moments away from passing out by the look the male has on his face, his skin is also paled, now looking dull grey. “Are you feeling alright?” Mark whispers, looking worriedly at Haechan who just nods, even if his skin turns bluer. Mark can hear Haechan sigh in annoyance as he throws what looks like a shirt to the corner and buries his face into his palms afterward.

Haechan feels wet tears building inside of his eye which makes him groan in frustration so having no desire to embarrass himself further in front of Mark he rushes towards the playroom leaving Mark dumbfounded once more.

When Mark enters the room he sees Haechan already kneeling on the floor, angered huff leaving his lips as his hands blindly roam around the stuff splattered on the ground and Mark doesn’t have the heart to mention that he forgot to switch the lights on.

But before he can even touch the switcher a thunder rumbles outside, shaking the walls and painting the room purple. Mark flinches but collects himself quickly but then he hears a small, broken whimper from the bellow and when his eyes search for Haechan he finds him shaking more violently than before.

Mark looks around in a panic trying to find a solution for the situation he found himself into. He doesn’t know if Haechan is afraid of thunders and if he is what could he possibly do to comfort the distressed boy? Before he comes up with any proper idea yet another thunder strikes in a dead night and as Mark hears Haechan squawk his thought is proven right.

He carefully steps towards the shaking form of a male and slowly kneels and gazes at Haechan who helplessly rubs arms around himself in comfort. “It’s okay, please calm down.” Mark moves his hand towards the boy but gets caught in mid-air as he doesn’t know if touching is an appropriate gesture. “Try to breathe slower.” He hushes instead-but Haechan just rocks his body back and forth, clearly too lost in his fear.

And as the sound of rain tapping against the window gets louder Haechan can’t stop tears slipping from his sore eyes so he lets embarrassingly loud, choked sob. He then feels warmth envelope him as he senses an arm around his shoulders and though muffled by ringing in his ears, he still hears Mark speak in panic. “Okay, okay, um, let’s try this, I will count to five and try to follow with you breathing, okay? Haechan? Can you do that?” Mark asks, anxiety audible in his voice, and Haechan nods shakily so Mark then starts to count with his trembling voice and Haechan tries his best to take deep breaths.

And when everything seemed to be going fine they hear a foreign voice shouting from outside the room. “Is anyone here?” And Haechan cries a whimper as more angry tears roll onto his cheek, the thought of someone else seeing him in this state gives him a dreadful feeling of mortification.

But then he feels nothing but coldness when Mark stands up from the floor so he again hugs himself in comfort as the only thought going hurricane in his mind is that he had lost the necklace and it makes him tremble uncontrollably. Because losing the necklace meant that he had lost the last reminisce of his past and the idea of it is enough to make his sanity crumble in ruins.

Suddenly Haechan feels a light fabric dropped onto him, covering him from anybody’s eyes, which he quickly realizes is Mark’s coat. From a small space, he can see Mark walking towards the door.

“Hello, I'm so sorry for the disturbance but I left something today.” And for the first time, Mark is glad that he takes his ID card with him everywhere as he shows it to the guard who just sighs in annoyance but then tries peeks inside the room but Mark is quick to block his vision with a nervous smile playing on his lips.

And Haechan just sniffles softly as he rubs his tired eyes, he can only hope that the guard won’t hear him. Before Mark finishes the conversation, trying to cause as less sound as possible Haechan’s arms once again roam around the floor because even if he ends up caught by a guard the desire to find the necklace is much stronger.

And as if his prayers had been heard his fingers touch the cold material and he immediately, almost instinctively recognizes the silvery touch of the heart framed pendant. So he lets out a choked sigh as he gently puts the necklace into his palm and clutches closer to his chest as more tears drip like a waterfall from his eyes. 

“Whatever just don’t be so loud.” The old man says as he glares at Mark who just nods frantically, wanting nothing but him to get away and the guard grumbles something under his breath but with that leaves the place and Mark can’t help but exhale a breath he didn’t know was holding.

But he quickly remembers that he still has Haechan to take care of so he swiftly whips his head back and notes that Haechan has calmed down, the occasional sounds of sniffing are still there to fill the room but he isn’t shaking as violently as before so with a sigh Mark walks closer to the boy. “Are you feeling okay?” He asks worriedly.

Haechan doesn’t respond for a while, he just rubs his face with his palms and leaves them there for a second before groaning softly and finally looks up at Mark with red, teary eyes. “Better.” He mumbles as lying would be unreasonable because his face is still very much covered with dried tears.

He grimaces when he hears thunderstorms in the distance but Mark is quick to react this time and Haechan watches him take his phone out and put his earphones in. “Here, listen to music for a while it always helps me calm down.” Mark muses nonchalantly as if he didn’t sight Haechan’s full mental breakdown and Haechan doesn’t know whenever to feel doubtful or relieved by his reaction, but he takes his phone regardless.

Mark sits on the floor a few feet away, giving Haechan as much space as needed and with a sigh leans his head back against the wall. Truth to be told he also hates rainy days, thunderstorms give him nothing but anxiety after _that_ night, and no matter how much he preferred to be listening to music right now, Haechan is in a much-distressed state so instead, he focuses on the sound of his heartbeat and closes his eyes as the rhythmic sound of the falling rain, droplets of water on pane brings out a bitter-sweet feeling of the nostalgia for the long-gone moments. 

“Haechan, wake up.” Haechan hears someone call out for him so fluttering his eyes the first thing he sees is black eyes looking straight inside of his. He jolts, startled by proximity and when he looks around he quickly realizes that he hasn’t left the clinic. And the worst part is that the whole fiasco wasn’t a dream either. That mark was there to witness him crumble. “You fell asleep and I didn’t want to wake you up,” Mark says timidly as he rubs back his neck, which he does a lot, Haechan notes, probably a nervous habit. “The rain has stopped, so we should probably leave.”

Haechan nods, too embarrassed to speak and as he stretches his sore limbs the coat falls on the floor so Haechan gives Mark a confused look only to find him standing only in a thin shirt looking back at him with a tilted head. 

Too tired to think further into the male’s actions he forces himself off the floor. Suddenly panic takes over him so he reaches to his pockets and leaves a relieved sigh when he feels the necklace inside.

“Should we get going?” Mark asks again and Haechan just nods, wordlessly giving Mark his coat back.

When they finally walk outside, Mark absurdly stops walking with a loud gasp so Haechan turns his head back towards him with raised brows. “Necklace! Did you find it?” And Haechan doesn’t understand why Mark looks so worried when the necklace has no value for him but he just nods slowly and is dumbfounded to see Mark exhale in relief. _Mark is weird_ , Haechan notes.

The walk soon becomes awkward, uncomfortable silence washes them over as none of them gather the courage to speak while they slowly step through the fog on the slick street, the only occasional sound of cars marching through ponds is here as an intruder of the quiet night. Mark inhales a shaky breath, a smell blend of fresh air and smoke filling his senses for comfort.

They play this game of throwing occasional glances at each other as both of them feel oddly anxious but for completely different reasons. Mark, uncertain if this day would become a push he needed to get closer to Haechan. And Haechan worrying that today’s incident will be held against him. Because how is he sure that Mark won’t tell the whole world how actually _pathetic_ he is. How is he sure that Mark won’t mock him, laugh as he will retell the story for anyone to hear. Haechan is never sure, not when it comes to someone as unpredictable as Mark.

Without Haechan even realizing he founds himself standing in front of Mark’s motorcycle and Haechan clicks his tongue knowing that buses probably don’t work anymore.

“Aren’t you going to sit?” Mark asks as he already is getting comfortable on the machine but as he catches Haechan nib onto his bottom lip, he whines childishly. “Oh come on, didn’t we establish that I drive well?” But Haechan doesn’t seem convinced, he turns his head back in the hope to see a bus arrive but much to his dismay it never does. “Come on, _trust me_ a bit.” Mark complains again, getting Haechan’s attention.

Haechan looks doubtful for few more seconds before he groans in annoyance but takes the helmet from Mark’s hands regardless and Mark, he’s just beaming, clearly satisfied.

And as Haechan sits comfortably down onto the backseat Mark throws a last glance at him before shouting. “Are you ready?” Haechan nods hastily and with that, they march through the night.

“Are you crazy?!” _Too loud_. The shout makes him flutter his eyes open only to be blinded by the brightness of the room, so his vision darkens once again as he squeezes his eyes shut. “We can’t take him! You’ve seen the reports! His family is searching for him!” The booming male’s angry voice roars once more, making Donghyuck’s limp body jolt on the bed.

“He calls me mom!” The female’s head-splitting wail makes Donghyuck regain full consciousness as he opens his eyes wide in panic, only them to soften as he scans his surroundings, relieved to find himself lying on the familiar hospital bed. “We won’t get a chance like that anymore! He-we have a connection! Fate-it was a fate, can’t you understand?!” Donghyuck doesn’t understand a single word they’re saying but regardless he is curious to know what was the nurse so agitatedly talking about, but after yet another sound of angry groan a silence drops inside the room and for a moment Donghyuck thinks that it was all a dream but his vision becomes clear and he recognizes two familiar figures standing in front of the bed.

“But-“ sigh “Everyone knows he’s here, police will find him anyways.” The male doctor whose name Donghyuck can’t remember sits down on the chair beside Donghyuck's bed and buries his face into his palms.

“Don’t worry I took care of everything, we just need to take him to Seoul first and then-“But the nurse catches Donghyuck’s eyes and as he looks straight into his tired eyes she smiles, but there is something in a way her lips stretch that makes goosebumps stand straight all over Donghyuck’s body “Honey, are you awake?” She turns to Korean again and Donghyuck nods, but his eyes flutter, too close to dozing off.

He feels a light touch on his cheek, forcing him to open his eyes again, only to be met with the blue eyes of the nurse who had managed to move closer to him. “Do you feel any pain?” She asks, her tone gets higher as if nervous and Donghyuck doesn’t understand why she looks so anxious but he nods nonetheless, painfully reminded of his aching pain.

As if waiting for this answer the nurse takes the needle Donghyuck got so used to seeing for these past few days. “A light tug and then you won’t feel anything.” She reminds him like any other time so Donghyuck doesn’t even think about protesting because he knows after the needle comes nothing but _relief_ and there is no crushing pain in his bones.

And as he feels the needle stab into his skin and the medicine flow through his veins, his eyes start to feel heavy once more and only seconds later he again sees nothing but darkness.

He’s woken up again by a harsh jolt, he feels his body jump upwards in the air. It takes him time to process his whereabouts but as his body shakes violently he realizes that he’s lying onto the emergency bed and the insides of a car slowly come to his vision.

His eyes roam around in a search of familiarity and instantly feels calming down when he sees the nurse again. She quickly notices that he’s awake and with a smile rubs comforting circles onto his arm. “We will take you to so much better place.” She says through a gentle smile, and tenderly brushes the hair from his forehead and with freehand, she slowly closes the door but Donghyuck notices her startled by something. Soon Donghyuck is also aware of the cause of her disturbance, a noisy sound that pains his ears.

A sound of a siren rings through the street, so Donghyuck physically forces himself to stay awake and full of curiosity peeks outside the car. He sees an ambulance car steer speedy towards the hospital and stop a full stop.

“Hurry! call the nurses!” Someone shouts. “A boy is in a critical situation!”

And Donghyuck watches as the boy looking the same age as him being carried by a similar emergency bed he’s currently laying.

He looks familiar, he thinks. Donghyuck observes the pale skin and ash black hair that sways in the wind as he hurriedly is taken inside and when his eyes dart to his hand that has dropped outside of the bed, he sees a ring shaped like a heart placed prettily on his pinkie, so unconsciously he touches his similar-looking necklace.

And when he feels like he’s close to solving the puzzle he hears a loud gasp next to him and in moments the door is swiftly shut down, erasing the boy from his view.

So Donghyuck closes his eyes again, lulled back to the dreamland as he feels the pain finding its way back to his bones much forcefully this time.

The last thing he remembers is the sound of the engine starting.

And as the car rushes with a speed, a poster slips onto the ground where Donghyuck and Minhyung smile with ‘missing children’ written above.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally greeting you again after a month! I know it took me long to update but I lost count of how many times I re-wrote this chapter and truth to be told I still don't like the way this chapter turned out but I didn't have any better options so I tried my best.  
> Please leave a comment and kudos if you enjoy reading my story, it gives me the motivation to keep going ♥ Also remarks about my grammar is very welcomed and very needed lol  
> I hope I will be able to update quicker next time! ♥  
> You can find me on:  
> [CC](https://curiouscat.qa/Sunau03)  
> 


	3. Our Falling Snow (where's the snow?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> • TRIGGER WARNING The chapter contains a graphic description of violence and blood so be aware!!!!!!  
> • I will update once a month because the chapters I write are pretty big and sadly it takes me a lot of time to write/edit. So please understand!  
> • I’m always ready to read your opinions on my work, whenever it will be negative or positive so please leave a comment down below it really gives me a bust of motivation!!  
> • If you’re coming after the second chapter yes I deleted that part when Haechan goes to elementary school but other than that I haven’t changed in the previous chapter.  
> • This particular chapter had a lot of scenes of dreams and it may not change a plot for you but I used a few symbolisms so if you’re interested you can read them down below:  
> • Yeona- The name means the heart of gold.  
> • Dreaming of snow is associated with cleanness, clarity, and a possible fresh start ahead. A stage in your life is over and there is a new beginning coming.  
> If you experience the fear of freezing in a snowy landscape, this suggests that you probably are in situations in which you not only feel your close relationships could freeze or even come to an end, but also that you might have a hidden fear of life or failure.  
> This dream could also make a reference to a possible cold attitude in a relationship with others, your tendency to isolate yourself, and not express any warmth and love to other beings.  
> Dreaming of being surrounded by snow in your dream is an indicator that you are an observer of difficulties and hardships which you may be encountering.  
> • Red and blue, traditionally red and blue are connected to how we contradict our emotions, these two colors are opposite each other. Red signifies power and action and blue indicates calming times. Thus, seeing both these colors in your dream can indicate that you are feeling confused. If we turn to spirituality, specifically the occult, the color red is associated with passion, power, anger, and the power of life. Additionally, red is also a symbol of aggression. It can also mean that we need to grow and develop as people. The color red can also imply that you are afraid to face many adversities in life. Often, dreams of red and blue appear when one has a huge desire to overcome obstacles.  
> • Purple, to dream in purple or see something purple denotes a mystic connection with something or someone in waking life. In other words, your dream represents your wishes.  
> • Butterflies symbolize change and transformation. Dreams about a butterfly can often indicate that you’re going through a major transition or transformation in your life. Often one will dream of a butterfly when they are going through a very difficult period in their life.  
> It can also indicate the loss of a loved one, whether this be physical death or the end of a relationship.  
> • Dreaming of a tree with dry branches is usually a bad sign. It often indicates major disappointments and change in your belief.  
> Dreaming of a dead tree is a bad sign, it is usually a sign of ruined dreams and desires. Often this dream announces instability and chaos in your life. It is often a sign of loss you could experience soon.  
> Dreaming of a tree falling usually indicates feeling imbalanced and insecure.  
> • Raven dreams may indicate misfortune. If you see a raven flying in your dream it is a sign that you will face bad luck.  
> To hear a raven in a dream means that you will be courageous in an imposed fight. You are learning the hard way that the right values you have and always stood up for, aren’t enough to succeed in a world where only the strongest survive.  
> • Blue irises symbolize faith and hope.  
> • Daisies symbolize innocence and purity.  
> • Witch hazel symbolize magic and mysticism  
> • The daffodil symbolizes rebirth and new beginnings.  
> You can find me on:  
> [CC](https://curiouscat.qa/Sunau03)  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Sunau0?s=09)

_Sometimes I feel like I’m standing on the bridge. The bridge is old, covered in cracks and moss, and every day it breaks furthermore, I hear how pieces of the stone fall deep into the river beneath. The river my eyes can’t see. And at the end of this bridge, I see light surrounding people, beautiful scenery unfolding in front of my eyes and there everyone seems to be so happy, so much happier than I ever be. But every time I make a step, I feel the ground shake beneath my feet and grand thorns split the stone in two, rising high into the sky and it spikes shadow me, leaving me in the dark. And even if I cut my flesh I never can leave the rejected side of the bridge._

A scream, a wail, followed by continuous sounds of crashing and items breaking.

Moments later a young woman emerges through locked room-uniform untidy, hair sticking in every direction, overall looking drained and disheveled-her tired eyes roam around in pleading to find a helping hand.

“Is everything okay?” A soft voice rings from behind, making her whip her head swiftly. Her eyes immediately soften as she recognizes the familiar face of her colleague.

“The boy is acting up again.” She explains breathless- she doesn’t need to elaborate on which one. And as if solidly for demonstration the kid screams behind the closed door, louder, more desperate this time.

“Yeona, please help me out!” The caretaker takes the startled woman’s hands into hers, gazing at her with begging, wide eyes. “He scratched me all over, I can’t calm him down, please do something!”

Yeona sighs, but flinches when she hears yet another loud thump. She throws a tense glance at the wooden door before her eyes shift towards the young woman once more. Nervously she fixes her uniform and nods and with timid steps walks to the direction of the door, her hand lingers on the door handle for a second longer and she gives a last glance towards her colleague who just frantically shakes her head, gesturing her to open it. So inhaling a heavy breath she opens the door with a loud crack.

What she finds inside the basement is the kid throwing the plate against the wall, breaking it into small pieces. She jolts, swiftly closing the door.

The sound makes the boy turn his face towards her direction and his face darkens, morphs into a mixture of both fear and pure despise. His eyes glow in horror even in the darkroom.

With trembling feet, she makes the first step but the child wails, hands tootle in a search of something to throw but the sharp movement sweeps the balance off his petite body, making his injured right leg buckle and stagger but the woman is quick to catch him before he falls on the floor.

She huffs, holding the child tight to her chest and for a moment little boy falls quiet, only his ragged heartbeat cuts into the silence. But it doesn’t take long before the kid is snapped out from his daze which is followed by yet another head-splitting screech and the caretaker yelps in pain as the sharp teeth dig into her skin as furious child gnaws her arm.

Reflexively, without thinking much, she yanks her arm out and pushes the kid on the floor. She squeezes her eyes in pain, rubbing the bite mark in a scooting manner. Irritation and fury clouds her senses as she glares at the culprit with an enraged look but her eyes tenderize forthwith when she catches teary eyes gazing back at her, his stare showing more hurt and betrayal than any words could describe but it’s the fact that he doesn’t even look surprised to be treated this way makes her heart clutch with unfamiliar guilt and sorrow.

And she can’t understand why the kid is so agitated, because no one knows anything about him, not even himself does. One day he didn’t exist, but the next day he appeared though nothingness, falling into their arms to be taken care of, bringing nothing but confusion to everyone around.

He doesn’t have a name, age, or anything to prove his existence, to indicate that he’s not a shape of her imagination, that he really draws breath.

And she’s oddly afraid of a nameless human being sitting in front of her, gazing at her with unsaid dubiety. “I’m sorry.” She croaks through trembling lips and tries to move closer to him but he flinches away, cornering himself. “Are-are you hurt?” She tries again but the answer never comes, he just stares at her.

He doesn’t speak either, he hasn’t muttered a single word for the past weeks staying there-every time he opens his mouth to talk, something always puts the screws on, muting him completely.

She doesn’t get a chance to ask more questions because the boy leans his weight onto his arms, forcing himself to stand up even if his leg bends painfully.

Without a word he stumbles towards the door, the before anger and agitation completely erased from him, as if he wasn’t in the mid of a tantrum only moments before.

He’s unexplainable phenomena, a bizarre of his own kind and Yeona worries that they will never be able to understand the complexity of this child.

She doesn’t know how much time has passed and how long she had been sitting on the floor but when she finally jolts awake from her thoughts the panic overtakes and without a second guess she rushes out of the room in a search of a said kid.

She bolts inside his bedroom, her eyes shift from one sleeping kid to another but no familiar curly locks to be found.

He tried to run away previously but luckily the guards caught him before he could leave the gates and she can only hope that he’s not already out of their reach.

She burst through one room to another, getting more anxious as time passes by.

He couldn’t go far, or she hopes so.

Only the garden is left as the last option so with shaky fingers she opens the door, cold night breeze strikes in, capturing the room whole, making her shiver. She fixes the jacket around her shoulders, holding the fabric firmly to her frozen body, and walks outside.

Silver moonlight is enough to guide her way, landing on earth with velvety grace, lighting her way. She huffs in agitation as her eyes roam around in desperation but with no avail, making them wet with tears of annoyance.

She walks towards the gate, planning her next move when from the corner of her eye she sees a small figure lying in a fetal position on the earthy ground, wrapped in a thin blanket which surely wouldn’t be enough to shield him from the cold flurry of air.

She can’t help but exhale a heavy breath that she was holding this whole time along with tears that stayed glued deep into her eyes.

With tired steps, she moves closer towards the kid who’s sleeping peacefully in front of the gate, as if waiting for someone to come. And it breaks her heart knowing that no one will appear but what is worse than that and what hurts the most is that the kid himself probably knows that as well, but yet he’s _waiting_.

Gently she takes him into her arms, careful to not disturb his deserved slumber after many sleepless nights. She doesn’t forget to put a teddy bear he seemingly takes everywhere with him back into his arms which he gladly embraces still in his sleep. And with soft, soundless steps she walks inside.

He flickers his eyelid, the touch of wet coldness awaking his senses so with one squeeze he forces his eyes to open.

At first, he sees nothing but whiteness, blanched, toneless scenery where the only permanent host has become snow, vanishing anything else in layers of frozen powder.

He blinks repeatedly, trying to make the ghosted place in front of him disappear but no matter how hard he rubs his sore eyes, he stays lying in the same place.

And when the coldness of land makes itself apparent-the glacial wind sweeps against his skin, creeps under the thin fabric of his shirt, shaking his body uncontrollably-he instinctively wraps trembling arms around himself in a search of warmth and exhales a heated breath and watches as the small cloudy fog fades in front of him. 

He looks around and realizes that he’s probably not leaving the forsaken area anytime soon, so he with frozen limbs, and fingers that lost their senses, leans his weight onto his palms and tries to stand up from the slippery, iced ground.

He drifts the white powder from his clothes and turns his head upwards, trying to search for any guidance out of this deviant place but finds nothing but sky painted in shades of red and blue, perfectly melding with one another, leaving a line of purple in between, just above where he stands.

And he’s left with no other option but to gaze at the beautiful, yet sinister sky that contrasts so cannily with the bleached land underneath as the snowflakes fall, and weight his eyelashes. 

But then out of the blue, magically even-a glowing white butterfly wings towards him, almost obscure, faint, and transparent. It dabs airily against his cheek but enough to burst sparks inside of his veins, to fill him with warm sensation in an overall frigid place.

And it continues to fly its own way, heading towards the mountains that he just had noticed and as his eyes follow its odd form, something back of his head screams to chase it, so he does as his heart says so.

He quickens his pace, even if his legs ache in pain. And for a while, nothing changes, nothing but snow surrounding him but he’s only concentrated on the gracious butterfly in front of him, swaying calmly into the air but still fast enough to be out of his reach.

After a while of mindlessly wandering in soulless land, he finally sees something resembling a tree, standing alone and sticking out with its darkened branches.

So he frowns as he stands in front of the dead lonely plant, bare and the raw but still standing confident in its hideous glory-any color of life wiped away, leaving it with the appalling tone of foul brown; it naked twigs, seared and tottering, still outstretch upwards as if trying to reach the beautiful sky above.

The loud screeching, alike of cry makes him flinch and when he looks up he sees a raven sitting comfortably at the top of the tree, staring back at him, his huge, crystal clear eyes mirroring his reflection back.

And they gaze at each other for a bit of a moment before the bird screams at him once more and flapping its dark wings, the bird shakes down onto him the dust of snow and with that it flies high into the sky, disappearing from his sight.

He doesn’t have time to comprehend of occurred as he feels the ground shake beneath his feet, sending vibrations through his whole body, and in seconds before bravely standing tree collapses to the ground, layering him with a white powder. 

He quickly shakes the snow from his already frozen body and with timid steps walks closer to the fallen tree. But his feet slip, sweeping the balance off his legs and so he finds himself stumbling face down to the ground.

At first, he senses the ice eating his skin where his palms linger, and with few sways of arms he’s eyes are met with a solid layer of ice, a frozen river perhaps.

But what takes him aback is the two raven eyes ogling him from the beneath of glaze. He jolts back, scared. For a moment he doesn’t dare to look, just listens to his hammering heartbeat.

But soon curiosity takes the best of him so he peeks once more, hoping that whatever his mind imagined would disappear but to his dismay, he catches these same eyes once more.

And the more he looks the better view he gets. It’s a boy trapped beneath him, looking at him with much curiosity as if expecting something. So he leans further down, his trembling fingers dig into the ice as he continues to gaze at the mysterious boy. 

The boy glances back and forth at his face and at his palm which lingers on the iced glass and next moment his leaning his hand upwards, putting right beneath his own, warming his frozen limb.

His breath hitches soundlessly, and he blinks once, twice, not believing his eyes and once he opens his eyes again he then finds himself being the one trapped inside the glazed glass and the boy now looking down at him, still with as much curiosity. But to his surprise he doesn’t feel afraid, he feels oddly content floating into the void.

So he closes his eyes, as the buzzing sensation of calmness washes him over, leaving him feeling the most rested he ever did. But he then feels a light tap onto his shoulder and as he flutters eyes he finds the boy now much closer to his face, his eyes still eyeing him whole.

He gasps, whacking his body backward but the boy is quick to catch him by his hand, swiftly intertwining their fingers but he says nothing, just gazes at him with these big, sad eyes.

He bats an eyelid, not understanding the bizarre situation he caught himself into but he feels a stinging sensation right above his collar, burning him softly and as his eyes drop down he sees his necklace glowing white, weakly lighting the darkness surrounding him and as he’s eyes dart back towards the boy he catches his ring glimmering with same amount brightness.

And they look identical, his necklace and the boy’s ring, shaped the same, glowing the same. When he looks at the said boy in a search for answers he just sends him a knowing smile, confusing him furthermore.

For a while, they float into the darkness where the only source of the light is their own jewelry but then the light dims, consuming them into blackness, into nothingness.

When he’s alerted back to reality, the first thing he notes is the tall trees towering onto him misty in an autumnal fog; he jumps upwards, his fingers run along with moss and bark against the moist earth and he scents the aroma of earth, an air like no other.

“Are you okay?” he hears someone speak and he flinches once more when he catches the glimpse of the same boy, sitting right beside him, playing with dirt with a stick. “Do you know who am I?” he questions and turns his head towards him, gazing at him with eager round eyes, that sparkle even in the dark night.

He shakes his head rapidly, still feeling out of the place. “Why don’t you speak to me?” he voice wavers, sounding hurt and mimicking his tone his eyes drop drown as well, filling with unsaid pain-immediately making him feel guilty.

“She…She gets sad when I, when I speak bad.” He stammers, not being able to find the right words but the boy in front of him doesn’t seem to be startled.

He just stares at him and the knit between his thin browns just tightens. “Who?”

“The nurse-I mean, my mom.” He panics, his voice shakes.

“Your mom would never get angry at you.”

The sentence is enough to knock the air from his lungs so he jumps forward, holding onto the hands of the mysterious boy “Do you know my mom?”

“Of course I know! I’m your…” He pauses, averting his gaze he nibs onto his bottom lip, not speaking for a while. “I’m your friend.”

“But I don’t have friends.” He declares a matter of fact.

And the boy grimaces, his face pinches as if he was punched and he doesn’t understand why he looks so sad and hurt. What could he say so hurtful that made him wear this expression? He just said as it was. “You have me now. I always will be your friend.” He mutters under his breath and the grip on his hand tightens and as he looks down he finds their fingers intertwined once more. “I’m Minhyung.”

“And who am I?” He asks a question that kept him awake this whole time but the boy, Minhyung, just sighs and drops his head down.

“I can’t tell you that even if I want to.” And so he nods, not asking furthermore questions, and decides to linger his gaze onto the ring decorating the boy’s ring finger instead. Out of a habit, he touches his own necklace that even without glowing still feels hot from a touch.

They stay in the comfortable silence for a while, with their hands desperately glued together as if afraid that if they let go, they would disappear from each other’s grip. And maybe they would.

His eyes roam around aimlessly, observing the area he found himself into this time. “Where are we?” He asks then, feeling the eyes drop on him but he doesn't dare to look.

“In the forest-in our forest.” This makes him look at the boy, who just sadly gazes at the ground.

“Our?”

“Everything started in here, in this forest, so it’s ours now, well…Until we leave.” Minhyung mumbles, trying to explain but the latter doesn’t understand any of it and maybe it’s for the better to know the less, to have less to worry about.

So with odd for him bravely he puts his head onto Minhyung’s shoulder because it doesn't feel out of the place, quiet reverse, it feels the right thing to do and his eyes drop once more on their intertwined fingers, and he allows himself to play with the latter’s paler and colder ones.

And when Minhyung wraps an arm around his shoulders-the feeling of being curled up in his arms, with their fingers intertwined and the soft beat of his heart, ringing like a lullaby in his ears; can never put into the words. But as he closes his eyes, and falls asleep in his arms, forgetting the world-he can tell that it is where he belongs and it is in those arms that he feels at home.

He smiles.

They were under the same sky at least.

And when later in the night he’s awakened by loud wails of a kid in their shared room, he feels the coldest he ever did lying in the empty bed but the sizzling warmth still lingers on his skin. So, starving for tenderness he grabs his toy, squishing it against his hollowed chest where his heart pangs in pain, beating for someone he doesn’t remember the name of, and with that he lets his eyes close as silent tears roll down onto his cheeks.

_And as I was left alone in the dark shadow of the bridge, I felt the penetrating cold consuming my soul, the painful emptiness that made my heart ache every day as I watched people smile at the other side._

_They say you’re never really alone-and I suppose that’s sort of true, but my shadows are not much of a company._

He sits at the noisy table, observing the room, and watches as caretakers rush from one room to another, some holding plates, some tidying the table, some calming down the crying kids that never stop wailing. He watches the life unfold in front of him, his new life that he needs to get used to. And only a mere thought brings nothing but pain into his chest, squeezing his heart till the last drop of blood.

The delicious aroma makes his stomach grumble in hunger, he doesn’t even remember the last time he had eaten-or forced the food down into his throat. That would be a better way to word it.

And his eyes follow the plate full of food that one of the caretakers puts right in front of him but he doesn’t have a lot of time to think as almost the moment the plate is placed down, it is emptied by hungry hands. And now he's left gazing at the emptied plate.

And so he bites down his lip, holding the scream inside but he can feel his hands shake, the irrational anger to take of his senses. And he wants to cry, from hunger or from the disappointment he doesn’t know.

But as icy tears well in the corners of his eyes he feels a slight nudge from his side and when he turns his head he recognizes the caretaker from before, smiling tenderly at him and holding out what looks like a sandwich. “Here take mine.” She says, shaking the food a bit and reaching closer to his grasp but he gazes at her and the food for a while, knowing that if he takes it she will be left with nothing to eat. But the hunger inside of him takes better of him so he quickly grabs the food and eats in one go, afraid that it also will be taken away from him.

And when he looks at her, feeling guilty again, she just smiles assuring, making him feel less bad.

“Was it good?” She asks and he can only nod in response, still not mustering a word but she doesn’t show the disappointment, she just continues to beam at him. “My name is Yeona but you can call me Auntie Kim if you want to.”

 _Auntie…_ ” Auntie Lee?” He gasps, immediately clapping his mouth when he realizes that he has spoken and the caretaker, Yeona seems as surprised to finally hear the child speak.

“No it’s Kim, my last name is Kim but you can call me whatever you like.” She quickly gathers herself, the before perplexed expression fades away from her lovely face and she puts a gentle hand onto his shoulder, comforting him.

They don’t realize the silence that has fallen into the room and only when he feels eyes burning into his skull he turns his head towards the residences inside the room. Unwanted attention immediately makes him meek so he with no real grace jumps down from the seat, rushing towards his room to hide from many eyes.

“He finally has spoken.” One of the caretakers voices breathy, still looking blankly into space and Yeona looking dumbfounded for a moment just smiles then.

“He still doesn’t remember his name?” Yeona sighs and shakes her head as she gazes at the said kid, who sits under the tree and watches other kids play around from afar. “His parents also didn’t show up and it’s been what? A month?” And Yeona once again can only exhale a shaky breath, a heavy feeling of pity sitting inside of her. “Then we should give him one before he will be adopted.” _But will he?_ It's the question she hears each time she looks at these orphaned kids, who were abandoned by people who had to protect them in the first place.

And as she watches the kid glow in the rays of sunshine and with much struggle try to stand up from the ground and walk towards their direction, even when his injured leg still bends, still makes him stumble-he never gives up, he's always standing up no matter how many times he has fallen. “ _Haechan_ …” She says through a soft smile. “Let’s call him Haechan for a while.”

And this is how Haechan was born.

_If I squeeze my eyes enough, I can see Auntie Kim standing at the other side of the bridge-she always been generous to give me love, to try to fill the void inside of me but that never been enough. Maybe I’m too greedy, maybe I’m asking for too much but what I ever wanted is to be loved unconditionally, without any reasons and without making any sense of it. And at the end of the day, it was her job to love me, it was what she was paid for and I think both me and her knew that from the start, so there were no misunderstandings. I knew she would never be able to give me motherly love and she also knew that at the end of the shift she would be giving this love to her own son, not to me. But that was okay, after all, she was the best thing that ever happened to me, she was the only person that ever was kind enough to show me a mere affection and love which I was carving so dearly. But as the void was left unfulfilled, so did my pain grow. Because it’s awful not to be loved. It’s the worst thing in the world…it makes you mean, and violent, and cruel._

“What are you looking at?” Yeona asks and crunches down on Haechan’s level, looking at the direction that the kid is focused on. “A flower?” She wonders as her fingers lightly touch the navy blue petals of the iris, which are close to dying. “Do you like it?” Haechan just nods, his lips formed into a pout as he gazes at the dazzling flower that glows in the sunlight.

Yeona hums, dabbing her fingers on the velvety plant before swiftly whipping the flower from the ground with its roots still hanging down. Haechan gasps, looking sadly now at the dead flower but the caretaker just chuckles. “Let’s put in the vase then, maybe it will bloom again.” She walks inside the cottage, kid following him shortly after. “Put it on the window sill.” She says as she pours water into the glassed vase. “You know, it said that some flowers bloom at night when everyone is asleep.”

And even if Haechan waited every night, tapping impatiently on the glass the flower never bloomed in the end.

_As the years wasted by I still waited for something extraordinary to happen, something so magical that it would make a sense of my doomed fate. But I never once thought that my life was anything abnormal-until I learned what other people considered as childhood._

“Here all done!” The caretaker chirps howbeit nervous as she fixes the uniform on the petite, fragile body of the kid. “Haechan are you excited for your first day at school?” She asks even though she already knows the answer.

Haechan just drops his eyes on the floor, focusing on his dirty shoes while his small fingers can’t find peace as they fidget, wrinkling the newly ironed clothing. Even if he wants to say no, he still nods hastily and the lip caught between his teeth losses the color more. The tears that are so close to spilling stay secure inside the corners of his eyes, just letting them glisten with unsaid worry. 

He feels the light pat onto his head. “Will you be a good boy? You won’t worry auntie right?” The grip of auntie Kim tightens unconsciously as they walk towards the bus and Haechan once again nods, still not looking up from the ground. He blinks the tears away and takes a sharp intake of a breath in an attempt to calm down his raging heart that is ready to jump from his ribcage.

He notices the hand slip out from his hold and only then he realizes that he’s already standing in front of the bus. Letting yet another shaky breath he stays glued to his place for a moment. “Haechan?” The caretaker now sounds worried, and Haechan hates it. He doesn’t want her to worry, so inhaling heavily he puts his chin up and with trembling legs makes a first step inside the bus.

The inpatient driver doesn’t wait before he settles down, turns the bus on the moment he steps inside making Haechan lose balance and slam against the seat. He’s not injured but he feels pain nonetheless.

The bus takes off towards the destination rather quickly so Haechan hurriedly stumbles towards the window, glues against it as he watches the caretaker move slowly towards the cottage.

He wishes she would stay for a second longer. He wishes she would be there to watch him leave but it’s only him who watches her walk away.

He decides to ignore the light tug on his heartstrings and slumps down onto his seat.

 _He’s used to it._ He forces himself to believe.

The agitation as he waits outside the classroom is eating him alive, he full of curiosity and anxiety watches the teacher speak. His bottom lip is already split in two, darkened in rich red color from so much biting and chewing. 

He wasn’t lucky enough to have other kids from the orphanage to be in the same class as him. Not he wanted to. But at least he wouldn’t feel like an elephant in the room if he had other atypical kid like him to accompany. 

“Haechan?” After what felt like forever, the teacher finally calls out his name, and Haechan sprints inside-almost stumbles down in the process.

Now standing next to her desk he, unfortunately, notes everyone’s eyes focusing only on him, and unpleasantly he feels like an animal at the zoo being watched by many curious eyes behind the cage, so he averts his eyes down on the floor. But the feeling of being burned by looks linger on his skin.

“This is Haechan.” The teacher starts, Haechan feels a strong grip around his shoulders as she forcefully hugs him. “The boy I’ve been telling you about.” And it’s the way she says it in such a threatening manner that even Haechan understands that something meaningful hides behind but isn’t able to comprehend what so he ignores the uncomfortable tension fallen inside the classroom. “Want to add anything?” And even if Haechan wanted to the way she asks him so bothersome he decides it’s better if he just shook his head. “Okay then, sit next to Eva. Eva, please raise your hand!”

A short girl with a ponytail raises her hand and Haechan with slow steps walks towards her and falls onto the seat and only then leaves a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Hi, I’m Eva, nice to meet you.” She says through a beam and holds her hand out.

Haechan hesitates for a second before taking her hand into his and shaking it nervously. He hopes his hands aren’t clammy. “Nice to meet you, let’s-“He hears a few soft snickers coming from behind with a whispered what sounds like a ‘weird accent.’ He violently champs onto his lip before mumbling “Let’s be friends.” Finishes his sentence just above the hush, and the girl already looking disinterested just hums, taking her hand out swiftly as if disgusted, she averts her gaze.

Haechan’s eyes dart onto his lap as he fidgets with his fingers, scraping the skin off but he doesn’t find himself caring and not even when he tastes the disgusting taste of iron on his tongue as his lip starts to bleed.

When the bell rings the kids rush outside the room in bliss yet not forgetting to give Haechan looks a mix of pity and dismay which both together look much like fear. As if Haechan is some kind of contagious disease. 

“Haechan, right?” He hears a squeaky voice to his side and when he finally manages to look up he’s met with blue eyes and freckles. “My name is Anne.” And Haechan nods, not daring to answer this time.

But she doesn’t seem to be bothered by his answer of lack of and sits in front of him. “It’s lunchtime, why are you still here?” She asks as she puts her chin into her arms and gazes at him with unknown curiosity like Haechan is some mystical creature.

“I will eat here.” And Haechan tries to roll his tongue the way that won’t make him sound weird anymore, but ends up making him sound even more unnatural but yet again the girl doesn’t seem to care, she just hums as she takes something from her bag which ends up being a lunchbox.

She nods towards Haechan’s bag, gesturing him to take out his food as well and Haechan obligates, too afraid to mess the seemingly well-going conversation.

“Woah Aero bar?” She exclaims while gazing at the chocolate bar with wide, twinkling eyes. “They’re my favorite!”

Haechan glances back and forth at the bar and Eve before handing it towards here. “I’m not hungry.” She pouts, clearly debating for a while before giving in and taking the bar with full excitement.

“Let’s switch! Do you like jellybeans?” He doesn’t, in fact, he hates the taste but he nods regardless.

“Thanks.” He murmurs as he takes the bite of the disgusting candy and grimaces, only mentally. He’s too thrilled to care about the sour taste the candy leaves in his mouth.

“Auntie hurry up!” Haechan whines as he tugs on the sleeve of Kim who with a chuckle follows the overexcited kid. “Did you buy me Aero chocolate?” Haechan asks for the ninth time, just making sure and with a fond smile caretaker once again says yes, that she indeed did, making Haechan beam from ear to ear.

“You know I can’t take you to school every day right? Don’t get too used to it.” She scolds him playfully making Haechan pout and swings her arm side to side and auntie can’t help but ruffle his curly locks. “We are here! Now go and be a good boy!”

Haechan just purrs and tugs onto his backpack straps and waves at her before rushing inside the building.

He basically runs towards his classroom, his heart beating excitedly for the first time in a long time, eager to meet his newly made friend.

Standing in front of the door he gazes inside through a small glass and can’t help but yelp in enthusiasm when he notices the familiar face talking to other classmates.

They’re laughing at something and Haechan doesn’t mean to eavesdrop but he can’t stop himself from leaning his ear against the wooden door.

Voices are muffled but a bit audible. He just hears loud giggles, he smiles, and as he touches the door handle is when he hears the familiar squeaky voice speak.

“He was talking so weird I couldn’t understand anything he was saying.” Haechan frowns, his hand freezes at the spot. “His accent is so bad.”

“And the way he looked at me? Ugh so creepy.” An unfamiliar voice rings inside his ear which he then recognizes as Eva’s. His fingers start to tremble as he feels his heart throb painfully. Suddenly he feels his throat go dry and all the air is knocked out from his lungs with a violent punch. There is no air to breathe. He feels suffocating onto nothing and he knows he has to leave, there will be no good if he will stay and listen to what more terrible things they have to say about him but somehow he can’t force himself to move, totally paralyzed to his place he continues to listen even if he feels his eyes water. 

“Ah right…” Anne says softly. “What a freak.” And this is when Haechan can’t stop himself mewling the broken hiccup that escapes his bruised lips as he jumps back like being burnt. Perhaps not physically but he feels all of his insides set on fire, his heart burns to ashes as the tears finally spill from his red eyes, stinging his face.

He sniffles, rubbing his sore eyes and soft sobs scrape painfully inside his throat, trying to kill the sound down, he's too ashamed to be heard. 

But his cries don’t go unnoticed, when he opens his glassed eye for a second he sees girls already looking at him with cold-eyed miffed looks making Haechan stumble back in mortification, and before he knows, he’s already running away.

He doesn’t know how long he has been running or how fast his short legs manage to move but he can only hope and pray that auntie hasn’t left yet.

Breathless from running and crying at the same time he tries to huff the last bits of air inside his exhausted lungs as he carelessly crosses the street which is blurred by hot tears that never stopped watering. He hears a car horn in the distance, followed by annoyed swearing coming his way but he has no time, nor the energy to care. 

A relieved sigh leaves his throat when he finally notices the familiar figure walking slowly down the street, unaware of the inner turmoil going inside the kid, and with all of his might he forces his legs to run faster towards the only source of comfort he’s left with.

Even if auntie will never love him truly, never see him as her own. Even if she doesn’t care that he will cry a river- he has _no one_ but her so he rushes as fast as he can.

“Auntie!” He wails through hiccup and his hoarse voice is so loud that the caretaker turns her head back from the end of the street and Haechan observes the worry paint all over her but he has no time to think into it, he just wants somebody to hug him. Even if it feels greedy to ask to.

“Haechan?” She doesn’t get to finish as she’s cut by her own soft yelp as Haechan crushes onto her leg with full force. “What happened? Haechan?” She tries again but questions quickly die onto her tongue as Haechan lets a throaty cry.

She looks around, noticing the unwanted attention gained from strangers so she carefully takes the kid into her embrace who instinctively finds his arms around her neck, nuzzling his head onto her chest he continues to sob.

“Hey dear, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” She asks tenderly, already walking towards the bus station. Haechan doesn’t answer the only responses still being his loud weeps.

“Take me home!” He bawls, tightening his arms around her, and sobs once more but chokes on a dry cough that makes him go into a gagging fit. And his voice sounds so worn out, so rough that Kim almost doesn't recognize him. 

“I’m taking you home dear, don’t worry.” She assures, bouncing his tensed body up and down in an attempt to calm him down but Haechan just shakes his head, staining her blouse with salted tears.

“No! Take me to _my_ home!” He yells which quickly dies down with yet another wet snivel. 

And as her grip around his body tightens but says nothing, Haechan feels disappointed for the second time that day.

_That day, the first day of my elementary school I saw the bridge crack the greatest that it ever did. I think that was the day I realized that maybe I would never be able to reach the end. And maybe that day the last string of hope was sundered._

With small steps he walks inside the police station, feeling unbelievably small surrounded by tall, hovering men above, rushing towards different corners of the building. The room is filled with many noises of laughter, the phone ringing non-stop, sounds of heavy steps, anxious talks, and many more. Some policemen stop to meaninglessly ruffle his hair, already used to see him hanging around there.

His grip on the backpack strips tightens as he turns his head upwards gazing at the familiar policeman. “Where is detective Suh?”

The officer too caught in his work doesn’t answer immediately so Haechan with his trembling fingers gently nudges him by his shirt in an attempt to gain his attention. “He’s in his room.” The policeman then says bored and so with a sigh, he lets go of a fabric that he’s been holding on and with even smaller steps walks towards the recognizable room.

He knocks politely on the door and steps backward, fixing the backpack on his shoulder, just to soothe his nerves.

The door opens moments later, showing the detective on display who doesn’t catch him at first, looking around confused before his eyes finally drop down to Haechan’s level who just gazes at him expectedly.

The before bewildered expression washes away from Johnny’s face, breaking into a beam he opens the door further, giving Haechan more space, and with yet another quiet huff Haechan walks inside the big, dull room.

The first thing he notices is the desk covered by hundreds, if not thousands of paper, splattered around messily, he notes the number of cups of coffees in every corner of the room, telling him that the officer must be busy.

But he doesn’t have a lot of time for observation as he’s suddenly lifted in the air, strong arms holding him in a place and when he looks at the male he finds him smiling at him. “What are you doing here kiddo?” Johnny asks, seemingly genuinely happy to see him.

But Haechan never recompenses the mood, he drops his head down, chewing anxiously on his bottom lip. “Is everything alright?” The officer questions his tone softer this time, even concerned.

And even if Haechan wants to tell that nothing is fine, nothing has ever been fine the moment he stepped inside the orphanage-he doesn’t dare to voice his real thoughts out loud. What’s the point of bothering a person who has no meaningful place in his life. So he just nods, lying through gritted teeth as usual.

Johnny carefully sits him down on the chair in front of his desk, which is too high for his short legs, leaving them dangling in the air. Haechan fumbles with his fingers for a moment, pressure on his lip just tightens making the color wipe off from its cherry color. “Do you remember when you told me to ask you if I ever need anything?” He mumbles then. Fingers scraping more violently into his skin, peeling it off from the corners of his fingernails.

Johnny looks surprised for a moment, his brows hidden behind his hairline but then he nods, remembers his promise but the worry between his crinkles never disappears. “Haechan, is everything really okay?” He tries again, more demanding this time yet gentle. Haechan nods without thinking.

“Do you know what day is tomorrow?” He whispers through tight lips, almost inaudible to be heard.

Johnny, more confused than ever throws a glance at the calendar hanging on the wall. “June 15th, why?”

Haechan huffs in irritation, now focusing on the sleeve of his torn hoodie, fumbling with a fabric.

Another minute of silence falls over the room, Johnny patiently waiting for the kid to speak and Haechan trying to come up with the right words. “It’s, um, it’s fathers day.”

And when the detective stays silent, Haechan panics, finally peeling his face off from the floor he looks at the man with shameful, wide eyes. “I know, I know you’re not my dad but-“ His voice breaks, so he clears his throat, fingers digging deeper into his skin. “But the teacher, she, she um, she told me that I could ask someone important for me to come and you, detective, you’re the only male figure in my life and also, I don’t know, classmates would think you’re cool, being a policeman and all...” His voice wavers at the end, he bites down onto his lip to stop rambling and drops his head down once again.

For a moment the detective says nothing, and Haechan takes it as awaited rejection, feeling stupid for thinking that he would ever agree on that. But then like a mantra of prayer, the voice rings in his ears. “Okay, no problem, I will come.” And this one sentence is enough to fill him with hope, fill him with something warm, he doesn’t know the name of the sensation so he prefers to call it happiness.

“Really?” He whips his head up, face glistening with the light that burns inside of him, tingling his every nerve with fuzzy, unknown for him feeling. “Will you really come? Do you promise?” He preys, searching any doubt to wash over the detective’s face but Johnny just smiles, nods his head softly.

And Haechan whips his pinkie finger in the air, reaching towards the officer who chuckles at his childlike actions. Officer gently tangles his own finger with the child’s small one. “I promise.”

And suddenly the room looks much brighter than it did before.

“And then he went inside even if the captain was yelling at him and saved the dog.” The girls standing in front of the desk chirps, holding onto his dad’s hand who just to brag taken his firefighter’s helmet.

Haechan anxiously taps his feet to the floor, glancing towards the door every passing second. He pinches the scar on his leg, still gazing worriedly at the door-Maybe if he will stare at the door longer, Johnny will magically appear in his vision.

_He won’t come, he doesn’t care._

The devil hidden in the corners of his brain, whispers into his ear. Its voice mocking.

_But he promised._

He fights back, forcing himself to believe the voice back of his head but he knows he doesn’t sound confident, the devil senses that and Haechan can hear it laugh.

_The promise is a pitiful lie, they aren’t made to be kept. He just pities you._

His legs tremble, he pinches the scar even forceful this time, almost breaking the healed injury once more.

Deep in his haze, he doesn’t even realize that the girl has stopped talking, now going back to her seat. He’s thrown to reality once more when the teacher’s voice rings into his ears. “Is anyone else left?” She asks as she delightfully reads through the list of the students. “Haechan-“ But she cuts herself off, giving a quick glance towards the distressed kid, and clears her throat. “Right...I think we’re done for today, thanks for participating, and big thanks for parents who found time to visit us today.” She finishes her speech but Haechan isn’t listening anymore.

With a loud thud, he bumps his face onto the desk, arms wrapping around his shaking body. And he ignores the snickers coming from different sides of the room, finding fun in the pitiful state of an orphan.

He fights the tears from slipping from the corner of his eyes, he doesn’t want to give so much satisfaction to everyone around. The only thing he wants is to go back to his empty bed and sleep his pain away.

The bridge cracks once more, few piles collapse into the void beneath, and Haechan feels something break inside of him as well, not strong enough to kill but painful enough to be sensed.

And when later in the night Johnny barges into his room, with unsaid apologizes and made-up excuses-Haechan just pretends to be asleep. Even though he doesn’t get even a blink of sleep that night.

And so, yet another name is scribbled in his book.

After that night Haechan has never stepped inside the police station to visit before a trustworthy detective ever again.

_From childhood I had never believed in permanence, and yet I had longed for it. But yet, I longed for love unbearably, a wild longing for strong emotions and sensations seethes in me, a rage against this toneless, flat, and sterile normal life. I have a mad impulse to smash something, myself perhaps because at the end of the day I long for a desire with no future, bitter longing-I starve myself by a yearning for intimacy that doesn’t and won’t exist._

Sitting on the grass, Haechan’s short fingers lazily play with the dried, dead-looking daisy as he softly hums a melody he doesn’t know the name of. His gaze never leaves the lifeless flower, its rotten petals now painted in nasty brown, looking nothing but pretty, filling Haechan with the sickening feeling of revulsion.

The flower will never bloom again, won’t be able to upheave its crown from the lawn, eager to reach the light of the sun after being trampled upon.

The flower is unsightly and slain, it won’t catch anyone’s eyes as they will walk by, everyone furthermore will tap the plant to the ground, finally ending its suffering.

Haechan feels much hatred for this sapless flower, a flower that let others walk over it-so he rips the plant off the grass cruelly with little no remorse and watches it bleed till the last drop of the green liquid pours down to the ground. He harshly throws the flower away in the distance where no stranger’s eyes can reach. 

He pulls his bruised legs closer to his chest and continues to lull the melody, closing his eyes he lets the sun soak him in the rays of sunshine while he listens to other kids’ screams in the distance, kids he has no desire to befriend.

A friendship between orphans, he scoffs mentally, how _pathetic_.

Suddenly something blocks the sun from his view, shadowing him, so he peeks his eye open and is met with a beaming face of a girl whose name he never bothered to remember.

“Here, it’s for you!” She chirps through a smile, pulling a bouquet of wildflowers closer to Haechan, so Haechan darts his eyes towards the flowers, alive and dazzling ones, giving color to the scenery with their petals, all of them painted in different vibrant, eye-catching colors. And Haechan hates them for looking so beautiful, nothing like the daisy he threw away a while ago. He quickly drops his eyes back to the girl whose smile has flattered and so he gazes at her peeved for a brief moment.

And then the sound of a loud slap makes the kids stop playing around, and a momentary silence is followed by a full-throated wail.

“Why did you do that Haechan?” Auntie Kim grills as she roughly tugs Haechan by his arm, dragging him inside the cottage and Haechan could care less about the punishment he has to face for smacking the girl- he never asked her to come and talk to him, he made it clear that he had no interest in making friends around, but here she was, being noisy. Haechan decided he _hates_ her. “She said that she gave you flowers because you looked sad, don’t you feel even a bit bad?” Her voice rises, can’t mask the disappointment behind and shoves Haechan inside his room and with crossed hands waits for his response.

But Haechan isn’t even sparing her a glance, he’s just dazing outside as he slides his finger on the window, bubbling the irritation inside of her and before she can control oneself, she’s already pulling Haechan’s face-off from the window, digging her fingers into his flesh as she holds him firmly by his chin and stares at the kid intensively, as in a way to show her authority, to somehow make the kid speak.

But Haechan just gazes at her soullessly, no trace of guilt or whatsoever in his empty, glassed eyes as he answers mellowly. “The flowers were beautiful. I _hated_ them.”

The flowers were too pretty for him to hold, they wouldn’t suit him anyway so I’ve decided I _hated_ them.

_Ugly…this is the word I’ve heard before, more often as the not-every time I crossed the hallways, or at the lunch break, this word followed me constantly, finding its home in my mind. And along the way, I started to believe in it, that I was ugly, inside and out. So each time my eyes lingered on something beautiful, something I could never be, I was filled with utter rage and resentment-with bitter envy. And even if I could rip the ugliness from the surface, I knew the ugly stayed inside of me._

_But now writing this and as the memories flood back, I still wonder why my classmates, my peers, my teachers, why did everyone hate me so much? Was it because I was ugly? Was it the reason why my own parents threw me away? I would never know, but one thing that stays clear is that It left a mark. Every word, every moment, every sigh, and every half-smile. It left a claw mark._

_Ugly. Unloved. Unwanted... All of these words found their way in the depths of my conscience, tattooed on my skin, and no matter how much I scrub, they stay lingering in reminiscing of my pitifulness._

“Why don’t go and meet this beautiful couple?” Yeona asks as she sits next to Haechan who is looking in the distance, gazing at the couple that came to pick up their future child. A child that he never will be.

And nothing but a feeling of revulsion fills him in as he watches the kids make fun of themselves, losing their last bits of dignity as they try so hard to be the ones to be chosen, to be the ones going in the warm home.

“No one will adopt me anyways, so why bother.” He whispers under his breath, leaning further against the tree from where he’s peeking.

“If you continue to think so negatively nothing good will come out from it.”

But if he will believe in broken promises the disappointment will hurt so much more in the end.

He never muttered his thoughts out loud; he just continued to gaze at the couple that played with kids, like animals at the zoo. They would never be able to love him as much his own, real parents would-the ones that abandoned him.

_Hope? It is a terrible fire; it either purifies or destroys you. But like aloof I still launched myself into the flames, hoping that someday it would get better, that someday I also would deserve happiness. I don’t think I was asking for too much-_ _I never wanted a fairy tale. I never wanted a big life. I just struggled to be ordinary._

_But I could hear the universe cackling behind me, mocking me for even having a pitiful thought like that._

_One punch on the back of my head._

_One push from behind._

_One foot tripping me to the ground._

_Another kicking me in the shin, where it hurts the most._

_One slap, two punches, hands wrapping around my body, dragging me in the dark corners of the school._

_Free ones scribbling, dirtying my books._

_One moment I'm drowning and the next moment I can smell my flesh burn as the cigarette butt digs deeper into my skin, adding more scars to my collection._

_And I can see someone watching, recording, laughing at my misery._

_And it’s a never-ending cycle, a routine._

_I could sing their never-changing rules of their play-because in the end it was all jokes and games for them._

_And truth to be told I don’t remember when exactly all of this started. When mean words turned into punches and bruises. Maybe the day I was born, or when I was abandoned by my family…Maybe I never had an easy life, I don’t know because I can’t remember._

_But I can remember the day that fumed the flames. It was the first day of middle school. The day when I first saw him, standing next to the teacher, smiling. And his smile seemed so sweet at the time._

“Hello my name is Wong Yukhei but I go with Lucas as well!” The boy, Lucas beams, gaining everyone’s attention around including Haechan’s who just observes him through frowned eyes. He’s handsome and tall, already catching girl’s eyes as he hears quiet gushing about the new kid.

But the reason he’s staring at the gorgeous boy is that the name sounds familiar but he can’t pinpoint from where.

And the more he gazes the faster the realization settles in. Wong Yukhei, the family of Wong’s, one of the biggest funders of his orphanage and he’s sure he’s seen him around as a kid, peeking from the overpriced car, dressed in nice, new clothes and holding onto expensive toys. Overall, standing out in a place full of low-class orphans, making him easier to remember.

So he sighs, mentally noting to not get in trouble with him.

He doesn’t want his orphanage, his only place to live to drown further deep into the depths.

Too caught in his thoughts he doesn’t notice the sound of loud steps coming towards him and only when he hears the low screeching noise he turns his head towards the sound, finding Lucas sitting in the row next to his empty seat.

He doesn’t realize that he has been staring but when the said boy waves at him with a timid smile, he quickly averts his gaze. He sees Amber who sits next to him nudge him lightly by his shoulder, whispering something.

It won’t take him long to learn the rules of the school anyway.

To his dismay, he meets with him after the lessons, when the bell has ringed a long ago-He always preferred going outside the last anyways, so no one would be there to bother him.

With a light shake, he tries to dry his soaked notebook, that _somehow_ , _magically_ found itself being drenched in the fountain right outside of the school. With a low groan, he drops the damp journal onto his desk. He hopes that he has an unused notebook somewhere back in his room.

But then he hears a soft yelp, making his eyes force upwards and he’s met with a towering figure of the new kid. “Oh hey! I didn’t see you there! I thought everyone has already left.” Lucas rubs the back of his head awkwardly and in response Haechan only nods, not wanting to have a conversation and with quick movements, he throws the notebook in the trash can. It’s useless anyway; he can always make notes again.

Unconsciously he grips tight on the stripes of his backpack as he makes his way out but a rough hand is there to stop him at his tracks, dragging him back into the room. A dreadful feeling of worry makes itself apparent inside of his guts. “What happened to your notebook? Why did you throw it away?” He asks worried, and Haechan can’t understand why he is even concerned about him, or his notebook.

“You will learn soon.” Is the only thing he answers before heading towards the exit.

“Hey, you seem familiar, have I seen you before?” Lucas shouts from behind, still not finished with the dry conversation. And Haechan can feel his legs shake, buckle in fear, even if there is nothing to be scared of-at least for now.

“Probably from ‘Miracle children.’” He mutters bitterly, he will learn at one point or another, so it’s better if he will gain this information from him himself.

But suddenly all the air is knocked out from his lungs as he feels his body thrown backward and he can only pray that it won’t hurt too much this time, that Lucas won’t be careless enough to bruise him in the places where it would be easy to be seen.

So he squeezes his eyes shut, his head dropped down as he waits for the punch. But it never comes. Instead, he finds him beaming warmly at him, completely oblivious to his distress. “You live there? No wonder you looked familiar! My name is Lucas if you don’t remember! I make sure to tell my parents that you’re my classmate.” And the way he smiles at him so sweetly brings nothing but acid, bittersweet feeling to settle into his chest. Because he knows it won’t last long.

“Please don’t talk to me.” He whisper-yells, trying to get away from the hovering body that blocks his way.

This takes Lucas aback as he stands on his way. “Why? Did I say something wrong? I know that I lack a filter but if I offended you or-“

“Please…” He begs then, voice wavering with the tears that slowly choke him, demanding to be let out. “You will learn soon after, so please leave.”

And even if Lucas seems as dumbfounded as before he still steps aside, giving Haechan a space to walk and it doesn’t even take a blink of an eye for him to sprint outside the classroom.

_He didn’t learn as fast as I thought he would. The next day he still came to greet me, ask me to hang out after school and the day after that as well, and soon days turn into weeks and Lucas still seemed as unbothered as ever, grinning at me, trying to start a conversation with me. And I would be lying if he said that I didn’t like the mere attention I was given, the generous kindness that I never was gifted from my peers before. And even if I saw him hanging out with the students that bullied me the most, I decided to turn a blind eye -in the name of ‘hope’- that he maybe I deserved a friend like Lucas too._

_And it is when everything started to go downhill._

“Why are you doing this?” He wails but it’s choked down by a yelp before he can even finish the sentence as he’s shoved down on the cold floor. He watches as the light slowly dims in the bathroom as the door closes with a loud bang and he registers the shadows coming from the different sides of the restroom, and the room soon is filled with sneering laughter. 

Lucas’s cackles echo through the room, penetrating his ears. And he can feel his eyes well up with hot tears that burn inside of his skull but he doesn’t know the reason for his unshed tears. Is it because of knowledge of his awaiting fate? Or is it because of the disappointment that aches his heart so painfully?

But he isn’t given too much to think as he feels hands wrap forcefully around his legs, dragging him across the room.

And the last thing he registers is the screeching sound of his fingernails scraping against the porcelain floor and before he can even cry for help, or beg them to stop, he finds himself gasping for air, but nothing but Icy cold water thrusts up his nostrils, a stream cascaded into the back of his throat and nose, sending jets of pain through his body. The water rushes in as it owns him. It enters cold and murky, stealing away the air that could save this fragile body. 

So he screams, his arms and legs kick out desperately as he tries to break his head on the surface but the fingers are still grabbing him, keep a hold of him.

And the more he struggles the worse it gets.

With a superhuman effort, he breaks the surface again, gulping at the air, and then with barely a gasp, he is under again. This time he sinks faster, further and the panic has his heart hammering against his ribs-a sense of anguish, more so than pain, had taken rule of his heart and his head is pounding, every cell in his body is screaming for oxygen, throbbing-his lungs feel as though they've been set on fire.

Slowly, black begins to seep in at the edge of his vision. He tries to open his mouth to breathe, but he only gets salty water.

He can't hear the laughter and chatter of the carefree students from the outside the restroom anymore, the sound drowned out to a low hum, buzzing at his ears, gradually muting into silence, one with the darkness.

His legs are tired and struggling to bring him back toward the surface so he grabs onto the toilet seat with left energy, his fingernails bleeding.

Nobody is looking, no-one has seen, no one to help him. And he wants to be saved, he wants a rescuing hand to tow him back to life, to the world he knows... A desperate hot wave has come over him, warming even his frosted toes. His heart is beating rapidly in panic. The urgency for air was more apparent than ever.

When he can no longer hold his breath the cold water rushes in, all illusions of surviving are gone. Soon the oxygen deprivation takes away his thoughts, for some reason, it doesn’t hurt like he thought it would, he’s not scared anymore, it’s almost peaceful actually.

But then the sound of the flowing river pounds inside of his skull, and he can taste it, a dirty river, foul and unclean. He can feel his body smashed against the stones in between emerging waves. He hears someone wail out his name. The cold that settled inside his bones; the darkness that enveloped him; the water that closed in around him, filling him with a deep dread; He can feel it all.

As if he had been there before as if he drowned once in that river.

So with the unknown for him strength, his limbs move like some stupid clockwork doll, successfully making him break his head towards the surface and with a long gasp, he lets his lungs fill with lacked oxygen and with that his whole body wobbles backward, coming crashing down onto the floor once again.

And he coughs onto the loathsome taste of the water that brings him horrid to even think about it. He gags and chokes. He’s left shaking and spasming, his body bending in every direction as he tries to breathe for air. 

And the sound of laughter echoing in the room slowly fades away into silence; he doesn’t recollect how long he stayed shivering on the floor.

And when he’s sitting onto his seat, still trembling in both terror and cold he hears someone laugh behind him making his chin wobble.

“God, it stinks in here.” Followed by yet another mocking cackle and he can do nothing but judder uncontrollably and watch with shaky, crazy eyes as the dirty droplets of water drip on the floor.

_And at that moment the only thought that corrupted my mind was why? Why? Why? Why me? What has I sinned so unforgivable that I deserve this eternal punishment. And it hurts. Ithurtsithurtsithurtsithurts I can no longer bear this constant pain with my slumber heart, so I let the ghosts in my chest plant dead flowers._

_And I am not beautifully broken. I was ripped to shreds from inside out. I cannot make my anger beautiful. I was torn by the anguish that never left me, no matter what happened. I cannot make my pain sweet. I never had a chance to be soft. I was always bloody knuckles and shards of glass. Perhaps, I used to be soft, used to be gossamer and silk-Until it was torn away and I was abandoned and alone._

"God has a reason for allowing things to happen. We may. Never understand his wisdom, but we simply have to trust his will."

Haechan allows himself to secretly open his eyes, peeking around-yet, still holding his folded hands tightly across his face-he observes the crowded church where each has laid their heads back down, hands in the air as the pastor continues sermon the homily.

"Have patience, God isn’t finished yet."

Something, or maybe someone scoffs in the back of his head, buried deep in the corners of his mind, but the sound is loud and clear, enough to be heard and make shivers go down to his spine.

_And how much longer should I wait? I’ve waited enough. I’ve waited for my whole life._

_I waited and waited. For seconds, for minutes, for hours, for days and years, I’ve waited. But all I had was silence and the absence of words._

The voice wails, sounding much like him but there is something sinister in the way its tone breaks, sounding drained and torn in between screams and cries.

It was true that he was waiting but he didn’t know what. He was aware only of his solitude, and of the penetrating cold, and of a greater weight in the region of his heart begging to be filled with something, something that would warm through, melt his icebound soul.

But one could wait a lifetime, and find nothing at the end of the waiting.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to give you hope and future. There is surely a future hope for you, and your hope will not be cut off."

Passionless he gently puts his hands down, detached from the preaching falling out from the pastor’s lips that stands behind the pulpit, delightfully reading from god’s words which sound nothing but a buzzing silence in his ears-he looks around, feeling like a ghost trapped in a room with people full of faith, belief and _life_. Somewhere he doesn’t belong.

He trades glances with other children dressed in Sunday best, they dangle their legs from wooden pews, wondering when playtime would come again.

But one particular boy gains all of his attention, he with knitted brows and hands clasped so tightly together that the pressure shakes his limp arms-he soundlessly chants something under his breath, lips barely moving but he seems flustered, agitated even and when everyone else turns their head back up again, stopping the prayers, he continues to murmur to himself, his expression cramping more and limbs shaking more forcefully than moments before, as if he’s afraid that time is slipping, not giving him enough moment to finish his prayers.

Haechan tilts his head to the side, observing the boy better from afar. His skin is much paler than his-unconsciously he glances at his tanned arms, “Ugly” mocking voices of his classmates ring inside of his mind, making him jolt and shift his gaze towards the boy once more-only to find him already staring in his direction, his eyes wide, glassed with unshed tears as he gawks at Haechan, making him shift uncomfortably in a heavy gaze.

But he can’t take his eyes off of him, the more he watches the better look he gets of him, he seems the same age as him, but on the surface he’s much well-favored, his eyes big and round, pellucid like a sheet of glass, giving them a limpid look. His skin is fairer, waxen, the milky color Haechan wishes he himself was painted as. Overall lovely to look at, everything that Haechan isn’t but that somehow doesn’t spark the usual envy and jealousy in him. No, he feels something, something that he can’t put a word of what-it brings both stinging and caressing sensation, making something curl inside of his stomach. It’s a funny feeling, the voice in his mind telling him that he should know the name of the emotion, that he experienced before.

"God promises to make something good out of the storms that bring devastation to your life."

But nothing ever comes to his mind as he feels familiar, rough palms squeezing his shoulders from the behind. He doesn’t need to turn to know who is digging fingers painfully into his skin. He doesn’t need time to remember what comes afterward. He learned each of their steps like the back of his hand.

Still, he flinches, never getting used to the ache that follows his words. “Hechannie, I’m bored! Let’s have some fun, shall we?” He whispers to his ear, only him to hear, awaking Goosebumps in awaiting terror.

He squeezes his eyes shut and dropping his head down he gulps heavily, but the lump inside of his throat stays unmoved. He can feel his body wet in sweat, his limbs to shake; in a panic he looks up, searching for a helping hand, and for a second his eyes catch a woman staring in their direction with her brows raised, so Haechan frowns, biting his lips he tries to come across as clear as possible but she looks away, not sparing a single glance afterward.

_Like they always do._

They look at him and decide it’s not their problem, only because they’re not the ones getting colored by many shades of purple, and people seen him, seen him being dragged on the floors of the school, outside of school, in the dark corners of the classrooms but they never do anything, nor his peers nor adults and it gives them more power, Lucas gains more strength knowing that even being seen no one will dare to touch him, or maybe help Haechan, the lowest range of the school hierarchy, an orphan with no place to go, no adult to ask for help.

And so, Lucas grabs him by his arm, getting impatient by the lump form of a boy sitting across and forcefully hoists his body upwards, dragging him towards the door; soon Haechan hears familiar steps lurking from behind and so he lets Lucas shove him around like a puppet.

But something forces him to turn his head back and so he doesn’t complain and does as his heart says so and with that, he gets the last glimpse of shimmering black eyes that never stopped gawking at him.

Haechan just shakes his head and closes his eyes, not fighting his fate, because what comes next is unchangeable.

"No need to panic…Because god will be right there with you, he’ll keep you safe and sound."

The last thing he registers is the priest’s voice chanting inside of his ears before the green scenery comes to his vision where he is thrown onto the ground. _But who will save me?_ He wonders as the first kick goes through his ribcage, plunging him deeper into the grass.

“What are you staring at?” Mark’s father asks when he finally catches his son dozing into space, staring blankly at the empty seat in front of him.

“Donghyuck was here.” Mark murmurs dazed, he blinks once, twice before finally looking up at his dad, his fingers finding their way onto the men’s sleeve, tugging him urgently. “Let’s go, I want to see Donghyuck.” Mark declares louder this time.

And something morphs onto his father’s expression, something resembling disappointment or even vexation and it needles an ugly feeling inside of his heart, squeezing it and making his blood go cold. “I’m not lying, he really was there!” His voice wavers, breaks at the end as he feels wetness flood his throat, making it hard to speak. He feels tears sting his eyes as he takes the doubtful state of his own father. “Dad, I’m not crazy, Donghyuck really is here! You don’t believe me?”

His dad doesn’t answer, he looks around, notes the unwanted attention as people start to gaze in their direction but Mark could care less, not when his dad is piercing him with accusing eyes. He hears him sigh, making flames blaze inside of him.

No one believes him anymore, the trust was broken the night he let go of Donghyuck’s hand-his own father, his parent, even he looks down at him with cold, unforgiving eyes.

_Everyone hates you._

The voice rings in the back of his head, releasing the tears from the gates of his eyes and so he gazes at his parent as waterfalls roll onto his cheeks. “I’m not crazy, dad, I’m not.” He tries to convey, tugging harder onto the fabric.

The images of doctors, their faces covered in masks leaving only dead eyes to be seen, their cold fingers holding him tightly, burning his skin, and with force shoving down pills into his throat. All of this, every moment spent inside the clinic comes in vision in front of him, playing like a broken record. Over and over again. 

_I’m not crazy._

Mr. Lee inhales heavily once more, patting his head in a comforting manner but that’s not enough to bring peace to his burning soul. “I believe you, Markie, Donghyuck is here, I see him too.” And as he watches his dad playing games on him, acting as if looking at Donghyuck who was long gone-he feels acid pour inside of him, eating everything on its way, leaving Mark with indescribable agony.

He takes him as a fool, no, as an insane-everyone thinks he's a lunatic blabbering aimlessly. His words lost its value, there is no one left to believe in him.

_What did you expect? You’re crazy, you killed Donghyuck._

The voice cackles at his misery, making his bones shake so much that he thinks he’s on verge of breaking.

_I didn’t kill him._

_I didn’t kill him._

_I didn’t kill Donghyuck._

_He’s not dead._

_He’s here._

He tries to force himself to believe in his own words but even he can’t tell the difference between reality and delusion anymore. Even he can’t trust his words, even he himself doesn’t know what’s real and what’s not.

_Oh, but you killed him. You killed that poor kid, you pushed him off the cliff and now he’s dead and it’s only your fault._

“I didn’t kill him!” He wails out loud, successfully gaining everyone’s attention, even the pastor is looking at him with judging eyes, burning him with shame.

He feels to his core every gaze dropped onto him, making shivers go down to his spine as the eyes follow him, filled with judgment and disgust.

_Everyone hates you._

The voice repeats, because they do, because Mark deserves nothing but to be treated with utter hatred but even that wouldn’t be enough to pay for his sins. Donghyuck must have gone through so much worse.

And so he sobs, hot tears pour down to his face as he wails once more “I didn’t kill Donghyuck, he’s alive!” His weeping echoes through the mighty walls of the church.

And his dad finally having enough of him, swiftly launches him into his arms and shamefully rushes outside the holy palace.

But Mark never stops crying, wiggling from his father’s grasp as he aimlessly throws his arms in the air. “I’m not crazy! I am not-“His sobs are died down by throaty, wet coughs and so he rubs his teary eyes and from the corner of his eye he sees a boy thrown against the field. “See he’s there! Dad, Donghyuck is here! Please stop! Dad!”

He screams and yells but the man never slows his pace down, walking towards the car with big, harsh steps, bouncing the child’s body in the air. “Dad, please believe me.” Mark croaks, punching his parents with left energy.

_Someone, please believe me._

And something snaps in Mr. Lee so he roars, startling everyone around. “Stop it, will you?! Donghyuck isn’t here, he is gone! How many times should I tell you that?”

For a moment the whole world falls dead silent, even birds stop chirping and the man fathoms that he went against every rule listed by his son’s therapists but he has no time for guilt because soon after Mark starts to wail once more, his cries full of heartache to be betrayed by own parent.

And Haechan gazes at the scene unfolding in front of him, sudden outburst successfully saving him from upcoming beating, giving him a minute to catch fresh air before he will be shoved into the ground with nothing but dirt to fill his lungs.

He feels his own tears well as he watches the boy being dragged towards the car who stares back at him as intensively with his eyes flood with yet to be shed tears.

He feels oddly relieved, solaced to be seen, his pain to be acknowledged and to see the boy cry for him, or with him-he doesn’t really know but he’s thankful nonetheless, someone has finally seen through his sorrow. 

He sees the boy thrown inside the car, sees the wrinkles appear on man’s soured expression as he himself gets inside the machine and he watches the boy glue against the window, still staring at him from the behind the glass, tears continuously drip one by one from his daring, shimmering eyes.

So Haechan drops his head down, his own tears wetting the land as he sobs quietly and in the distance, he hears youth hymn, angelic voices escaping through the thick walls of the church mixed with the soothing sound of the organ that rings through the area-buzzing his senses.

_Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound_  
_That saved a wretch like me_

He hears the car start but doesn’t have the heart to look up, to watch the first and the only person who had shared his pain with him slip away from his reach as fast as he appeared. So he continues to bob his head as his body shakes, pouring hot tears to the grass.

“What are you crying about?” He hears them snicker, then comes the familiar ache as Lucas’s feet pressed on the back of his head, pushing his face into the dirt. “Did you think they would help?” His feet weigh upon more forceful. “There is no one who would save you.”

_Through many dangers, toils, and snares_  
_We have already come_

Haechan doesn’t answer, doesn’t muster a sound, he just continues to weep quietly, irking the men above. “Don’t believe me? Then scream, scream, and see if anyone will show up!” He shouts, grabbing him by his hair, yanking his head upwards and Haechan can only gasp for air as he can finally breathe again. “I said shout!” He yells again, now straight into his ears, making his eardrums throb in pain and truth to be told he wants to shout, to scream to yell for help but he knows that it’s not worth of trying, even if he will tear his vocal cords apart, he knows that no one will help so he bites his tongue, blocking any sound from leaving his throat, even if it aches.

Clicking his tongue Lucas pushes him to the side and with a nod, he gestures his friends towards the limp body and they like loyal dogs quickly grab Haechan by his arms, dragging and scraping his skin against the ground, they draw him somewhere in the dark ginnel where the sun barely reaches.

_T'was Grace that brought us safe thus far_

And so after one punch to another Haechan lays down onto his back, his eyes trying to reach the sunlight that peeks through cracks on the ceiling. And he listens to the choir that continues to chant the carol, lulling him to sleep-or is he losing consciousness? He doesn’t know, and frankly, he’s too exhausted to ween so he lets his eyes close as his body bounces to the ground from one kick to another. Allows with no further protest to color his body with shades of purple and blue, in the added decoration of his scarred body.

He doesn’t scream, nor cry, the pain crushing against his bones is barely noticeable as well, he senses his mind flagging, covering with a haze.

The only thing he can do is to lie flat on the earth beneath and listen to the mantra.

_And Grace will lead us home_

He doesn’t know how long he stayed lying there, or how much damage had been done to his already scattered body but the last thing he registers is one of the guys shouting something in a frantic tone which follows loud footsteps that throbs right into his head.

So as he’s left lying there in the darkness and coldness to consume him all. He notices that the singing has stopped and the world has fallen silent with no sound audible.

Fluttering his eyes he lets his battered body to rest, with short breaths that pangs his lungs he tries to calm his soul down as he feels the familiar tears sting the corners of his eyes and so he closes his eyes and wishes to be dead.

And later on the evening, he doesn’t even try to fight for the food, he lets arms to be shoved into his bruised sides, moving him away from the feast.

He just sits there, swaying from side to side as he feels nothing but coldness in the core of his bones, nothing but a void in a place where the heart belongs and unnoticed for him tears start to roll onto his swollen face, and he doesn’t even try to be distinct about it.

_No one will notice anyway._

He sees caretakers running from one corner to another, he watches the kids delightfully devour the delicious-looking food, that smells so, so nice, but brings nothing but a revolution to his ravenous stomach. 

Life goes on and everyone is too occupied with their own misfortune to notice that it had finished for one.

_I wanted to vanish, so completely that even I would not remember me: no feelings, no memories, just the freedom of oblivion. And that day something inside of me had dropped away, and nothing came in to fill the cavern._

_But yet every morning I wake up and promise: today I will be different, today I will be better. The sun is out, but I am cold. My eyes are wide, but my mind is asleep. The world is alive, but I am dead. Everything screams “Live for today”-when I died yesterday. And by the night it is all the same and I wonder who corrupted who: the world or me?_

“Haechan, dear, are you eating well?” Auntie asks as she brushes her fingers through his messy locks. “You seem to be losing weight.” She says and slides her fingers to his skin, letting her palms linger on his hollowed cheeks where the dry, patchy skin scrapes the pads of her fingers.

For a moment Haechan gazes at her, his lips turned into a thin line as his eyes glisten in the dark. The bruises underneath his shirt just sting more as he nods, lying both to her and himself.

He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that her delicately made food was spitted and thrown into the crash can right in front of his eyes. And he can’t tell that it’s been happening daily, either. That would be too much of a nuisance.

Still looking unconvinced she nods, letting her hand drop down. And it makes Haechan wonders that if someone looked at him better, or longer. If someone ever heard his wordless pleading and cared enough to reach a helping hand, maybe then…maybe then everything would turn out differently. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much. But it’s too late to dwell on something that won’t ever happen so he steps aside and walks towards the bathroom.

And when he looks into the mirror, all he can see are the people he could been, and he still is haunted by all the things he could been-but life is too short for all lives he dreamed of living. So he looks into the mirror, looks in his distress. Life remains a blessing, although he cannot be blessed.

So he stands as the tears scald and starts as he gazes at the reflection of a boy he doesn’t recognize, no matter how many times he looks at him he can never call him _his_ because it’s not him. Sometimes he feels like he’s not solid. He’s hollow. There’s nothing behind his eyes. All he wants is blackness, blackness, and silence. He doesn’t feel like he’s ever here, scared that maybe he doesn’t exist after all; detached and slipping away into nothingness.

He slowly strips down, motions every curve of his body, every movement of his muscles, and when he stands still, naked and raw he can’t help but to feel repulsed-his body covered in bruises and scars; ribcage popping outside his skin, leaving him only bones and flesh; his arms lanky; overall totally and utterly ugly.

He gently brushes his fingers in his hair, lifting the locks enough to show the scar that hides right above his ear, the reason for his doom. The scar stays but the memories have forever vanished.

He both despises his scars but he supposes he formed a habit of liking his them as well, in an oddly twisted way, because they have stayed with him longer the most people have. They decorate his skin like a souvenir of his past, in a reminisce that he continues to exist, alone or not, he continues to live.

So he claps his hand to his mouth, muffling the quiet weeps that leave his bruised lips. And slowly he slides down on the floor, wrapping arms around himself is when he lets the few tears slip from his reach, to burn his skin as they roll by.

_When I think about it I was only thirteen when I already wanted to die, I was and still am just a kid but somehow I feel so old, so awfully old and worn, and so young at once, raw as a wound._

_But That night devil came crawling to me, whispering in my ear that he could take my pain away and these days, someone else inhabits this body, perhaps someone you do not want to be, there is something fierce and terrible in me, eligible to burst forth, I dare not tell in words because I’m terrified by the dark thing that sleeps in me. But my anxious heart is eating up my body, eating up my nerves, my brain. I feel this poison slowly filling my veins-every particle becoming tainted…_

_Would I yield, and not go mad? No. I should revolt, I scream inside._

_It did not kill me and it did not make me stronger. It simply was and always be scorched upon my heart._

_Am I supposed to be grateful to have survived this?_

Haechan fixes his hair and jumps outside the window, scratching his hand onto the broken glass in the process. He hisses as he gazes at the blood that pours outside the broken skin. He throws a quick glance back, checking if someone has seen him but only sees a lonely piano standing in the center of the room-the abandoned music room is the only place where he can rest in peace, to have time to eat without being bothered by anyone.

So putting pressure on his newly formed injury he walks outside the school, just to catch a fresh bit of air before he will be suffocated in the room full of people who patiently are waiting for his dismay.

But he doesn’t make a long before he’s dragged inside the dark corner, right beside the school building. He knows there would be a lot of witnesses, seeing him mercilessly punched and kicked. But he also knows there would be no one that would dare to help him, so he doesn’t even try to fight back. These days he doesn't even bother to take a guess about how many bruises will appear on his skin at the end of the day. And these punches? They don't hurt as much as they did before, either. 

“Nice to see you here, Hechannie.” Lucas chirps as he throws the butt of the cigarette onto the ground.

Haechan knows it was stupid of him to walk so close to their secret hiding space, where they smoke before the lessons. But whatever. He would end up beaten up no matter the circumstances.

He doesn’t flinch, nor does he run away, he just glares at the elder who scoffs at his attitude. “What? Are we playing brave now?” He asks teasingly and jumps down from the stairs, walking closer to him with slow steps. He puffs an air, the disgusting smell of nicotine hazes his senses so he coughs, suddenly feels choked down. “That’s better…” He muses as he leans closer to him, looking down at him in a way to make him feel smaller, he guesses. 

Lucas eyes then drop down onto his arm which never stopped bleeding and he can hear him chuckle and the next moment his hand is harshly whipped in the air and he feels indescribable pain as fingers knife right into his cut-spreading it open and making even more blood pouring down. “What? A failed attempt?” Lucas laughs, making Haechan’s blood go ice-cold. “What a shame, you should’ve finished what you started. _Waste of air_.”

The words make his heartbeat drum into his ears, he can feel his pulse racing in his veins and suddenly he has an urge to vomit.

How can one be so heartless? What did he even do to deserve this much hatred?

His jaw tightens as he grips his teeth, trying to hold his screaming-because he desires to howl in pure rage.

His heartbeat never slows down it just quickens its pace as he’s thrown onto the ground. He doesn’t move from his place, he just leans onto the land with his trembling fists-that itch, begs to be painted in blood.

“Forget how to speak, freak?” Lucas kneels in front of him but Haechan never spares him a glance, his eyes stay glued onto the ground, shaking in wrath. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!" He then raises his voice, gripping painfully onto his locks, forcing him to look up and something alike fury washes over his face as he catches Haechan looking at him with dull, emotionless eyes. So he punches him right onto his cheek, making him crash against the hard concrete beneath.

But Haechan just sits back in the same position, he closes his eyes, trying everything in his might to stay calm and not let his devilish thought to take the best of him.

But then he’s forcefully grabbed by his collar, making him squeezes his eyes and wait for another punch to color his skin. But it never comes.

When he dares to open his eyes a little he finds Lucas gazing at something, something on his neck, and a sudden feeling of dread sits inside his lungs. _His necklace._

“What is that? I never have seen it before.” He says as he softly touches the pedestal, getting a better view.

Haechan flinches, jumps back-which he recognizes as the wrong move as he sees the crooked smile stretch further on Lucas’s face, giving him somewhat a sinister look.

And before he has time to comprehend he feels a strong grip on his neck once more, leaving him breathless. “Is it important for our little Hechannie?” and within seconds he breaks the necklace off his skin.

The last thing he registers is the ringing sound of the chain splattering onto the ground-and then his mind goes blank.

“What is that?” Lucas laughs. “Who is that boy? That doesn't look like you. Do you keep a baby picture of your lover? Are you gay? How sweet.” He cackles once more mockingly but Haechan doesn’t react.

The sense of reality slowing fades away, settling onto nothingness and the blankness of his mind.

Gaining no response Lucas glances at him curiously, his brow raised upwards but Haechan stays sitting there in the same place.

His hands are fisted, knuckles turned white as his whole body shakes with total hysteria.

He feels the last crack on the bridge, the very last crack that makes it going collapsing into the void.

And then he hears something break, he feels something cracking, his sanity perhaps.

_And then something snaps in him and everything blurs with one another._

Without him knowing he roars through gritted teeth and with that he takes Lucas tackling down onto the ground. And he continues to scream as he punches the boy in front of him, to scratch him till he feels blood fill the corners of his fingernails.

Lucas seems frightened for a moment and Haechan realizes he likes this look on the boy better, to finally have that smug, arrogant smile wiped away from his face and he decides that he wants to see him wear this expression more often so he hits him, harder this time, smashing his head against the block.

His hand colors in a mix of blood and tears.

He feels someone grabbing him from the behind but he just digs his teeth into the flesh so deep that he feels iron on his tongue-the monster inside of him had been unleashed and now there is no turning back.

So he lets himself completely lost in its furry form.

And he doesn’t know how much time has passed, how many times he knocked the life out of him, how much blood has been poured because he just yells as he continues to punch the lump body beneath him, the blood floods from the nose of the lifeless male whose eyes roll further back into his skull as Haechan pounds his face with his blood-stained fists.

Lucas had long given up fighting back the raging male who more resembles a wild animal thirsty for blood, than an actual human.

And Haechan can see nothing but red as he feels bones crack under his fingers the more, the harder he kicks.

Control over his body had been long lost, his hands move on their own, diving into the flesh of his classmate as forgotten animal instincts had awakened inside of him, killing the last bits of humanity left inside of him.

But at the same time, he’s so afraid, afraid of himself, of what he had become and what the monster in the mirror in a form of his reflection will look like-but the anger, the anguish built inside of him for so many years, had finally clawed their way out from the walls that Haechan tried so hard to keep in a place and no one dares to say that Haechan didn’t try, that he didn’t lock them inside the dark, unreachable corners, that he didn’t ignore the darkness consuming his soul each time someone stabbed incurable wounds deep into his heart with every insult, with every false promise.

It's always been him against the world, and his demons, they’ve entirely filled the void of his empty heart and started to spill out and to flood him with nothing but a poison, the poison that everyone themselves poured for him and then they dare and wonder how could someone end up as sick as him?

And it drives him insane knowing, in the end, Haechan will be made as to the devilman of everyone's story. Even though it was them who pushed him towards the cliff- Haechan didn’t jump on his own, he was pushed, and shoved until his legs finally gave up and the ground slipped beneath his feet and he was thrown down into nothing but a dead abyss.

And the longer he gazed into an abyss, the abyss started to gaze back, embrace him in an affectionate hug as he dived deeper and deeper into the darkness, washing away the fear and worry his demons brought and so he stopped fighting them and slowly learned to love them. And somehow it was better than loving people.

As the control over his conscious and thoughts were out of control he doesn’t notice when Lucas's eyes roll back down, not glowing in fury and it takes him only a mere kick in the stomach to make Haechan stumbling back, making his wrist bend in a way that for sure will need treatment. Haechan gasps for air as he feels his insides squeeze in pain.

He thinks his body is set on fire as Lucas kicks him right on the back of his head, making sparks fly from his eyes. And the next moment Lucas is the one sitting atop of him, diving delightful punches into his skin, making his eyes tears in agony.

But he can't make himself to care. That's the most carefree he ever felt-even if his whole face is covered with blood.

So he laughs and laughs before he can feel his lungs bust and when Lucas looks taken aback not even for a second, he spits blood into his face.

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” He roars, putting his hands around his neck, slowly but surely blocking the air going inside his lungs. But Haechan yet again just guffaws.

“You think you can scare me with that?” he mocks him. “I’m not afraid of death.” And he brushes his bloodied fingers against his skin, painting his face with his own blood-playing a sick game to see how long it will take to crack him, to force him to show that same frightened expression.

And it works because Lucas jolts back, his eyes wide with both fear and confusion, but he's too dumbfounded to comprehend accrued. Haechan grins, enjoying every second of this view. To realize he holds the power to bring fear in a person that has made his life a living nightmare-is too addicting.

He then tries to stand up but his legs buckle so he leans against the wall, leaving blood marks all over it. He breaths heavily, but there is nothing but blood to fill his lungs but this is when from the corner of his eyes he sees a broken glass shining in the light and slowly leans down, feeling every bone crack inside of his body and he gently takes the broken piece into his hand. “If you want to kill me so badly, then kill me, I have nothing to live for anyway.” He says nonchalantly and stumbles closer towards the boy, who just corner himself, his eyes wide and full of terror. Haechan likes it way too much. Only then he realizes that Lucas's friends are nowhere to be found, giving him more pleasure to see the boy in his vulnerable state.

He forcefully grabs Lucas’s hand and puts the glass into grasp, cutting his skin in the process-he feels the warm blood drip onto his own fingers. He then slowly guides his hand towards his neck. “Kill me.” He says and jumps his body forward and feels the way glass needles into his skin. “Kill me!” He yells again but then he feels something hard coming crashing onto the back of his head, making him flee and crash against the wall before his lifeless body finally bounces onto the ground.

And then the only thing he remembers is the images blurring with one another with a speed of light followed by the loud screech that leaves Lucas throat. “Is he dead?”

But he can only groan in pain when his heavy eyes shut down, finally bringing him peace to his mind.

Haechan blinks his closed eyes as he feels a touch of coldness on his warm, bloodied skin forcing him to flutter his eyes and when he finally fully regains his consciousness, he finds himself still lying on the hard concrete ground.

He can’t move, his body feels heavy, weighting down to his bones that ache in pain. 

So instead he decides to watch flakes fall swiftly past the glow of the streetlight-all types to look at, different shapes, different sizes, large ones, and small ones shimmering like stars. They stick to the ground, covering with a velvet flow-melding with his hot poured blood, mixing in pretty rosy color.

His eyes flutter shut again and he listens to the sound of falling snow, a quiet, soft, and dear that comforts the sleepy soul-so he continues to lay as snowflakes flutter by and leave icy, wet, and cold kisses all over his face, melting onto his skin.

He smiles, his bruised lips stretch as dry, blood-stained flesh breaks, letting more blood flow and with that, he falls deep into a slumber yet again.

He doesn't know how long he stays unconscious but slowly Haechan squeezes his eyes shut, the persistent harrowing pain settling depths of his bones once more. The only source of keeping him conscious is the sound of the cars passing by but yet every drop of the sound hammers inside of his skull.

It takes a while but eventually he manages to put himself in the sitting position, his bones uncomfortably touching the hardcore, cold ground. And soon after the pain in his bones comes crashing to his senses.

He moans weekly, gently touching what looks like a sprained wrist and he can only hope that it’s not broken, he tries to open and close his palm but the stinging pain knives his nerves, so with an exasperated sigh, he carefully puts his hand onto his knee.

But he scoffs at the thought of the new-added wound to his collection of injuries. And he wonders how much his body will be able to take before all of his bones will shatter to the ground in small pieces. He’s sure time will show.

But he yelps again as the pain once again pieces through his whole body.

His body feels too heavy to move and even if he could he’s afraid that his bones will break with a mere try.

But inhaling a heavy breath he tries to put his feet on the ground. Immediately he squeals in pain that pangs his nerves much aching this time.

But he has to get up. He has to protect himself.

Somehow- even he can’t explain-he manages to stand up and still covered in dried blood he stumbles outside, almost crawling as his legs drag across the heavy cement, scrapping his skin furthermore and opening newly healed scars.

His body sways, rocking back and forth as he tries to keep his balance but as he holds his hand out to catch the incoming taxi, the balance is swept beneath him and he ends up stumbling face down to the ground.

He groans as he feels the pain eating him alive, he feels his blood go dry for a second but then he hears frantic honking that throbs his headache so with forced energy he turns his head upwards. “Hey, are you okay?” the driver shouts from the window, not making any moves to help him. But Haechan can’t really blame him, he also wouldn’t jump to help a person who is covered in blood from head to toe.

“Never felt better before.” He yells back, and digging his fingers into the metal, he lets his weight lean against the car, and with a force, and the sound of joints cracking, he manages to stand up once more. “I just need to go to the police station, you know the one, next to the grand park, I think, but I really need, need, too, I really need to go there.” He blabbers through slurred speech as he feels at the brick of losing his conscience once more and he almost lets his eyes shut but then he hears the driver talk to him once more.

“Do you even have money to pay?” And Haechan only nods, too tired to muster a sentence. He feels high, the calming buzzing sensation spreading into his veins and making him doze off into the unconscious. So he drops his head against the cold window and watches as the many colors blur with one another.

He doesn’t know how long it takes him to arrive at the station but he somehow managed to stay awake the whole road, even if his body screamed nothing but to shut his eyes close.

He doesn’t even bother to stand normally, he just drops his weight down onto the ground. “Please wait here, I really have money to pay.” And the driver grumbles something under his breath but Haechan decides to ignore him.

Too tired, and maybe too injured to walk, he decides to crawl upside the stairs and as he gazes at the light coming from the inside of the building-he knows that the moment he steps inside, his whole life will change.

When he finally shoves door by left energy he doesn’t try to stand up because soon he hears someone gasp and the next moment someone is holding him upwards, and he screams, feeling every second of his wounded muscles stretch. “Oh my god! Haechan? Is that you?” And the man screams, sounding like Doyoung and Haechan can only nod as his eyes squeeze, too blinded by the brightness of the room. “Taxi, taxi, the driver, please pay him.”

“What? Forget about the driver! What happened?” Doyoung screams, thankfully gaining other’s attention around-Haechan can tell because he hears the frantic sound of footsteps surrounding him.

“Please. I want Johnny, call Johnny!” He wails, the pain slowly becoming unbearable as each minute tickles by.

He hears someone talking in panic, he makes out someone calling for Johnny and after few minutes he’s wrapped into protective arms, holding him in a place and not letting his wounded body move. “It’s okay, I’m here now.” He hears the familiar voice of the officer so he lets himself wail and with trembling arms he wraps them around him, probably dirtying his clothes. “Can you tell me what happened?” He asks softly, carefully holding him as if afraid to break him, which probably doesn’t sound so unrealistic speaking from the pain he feels in his bones.

“He, they, they’ve been hurting me for so long and I, I didn’t know what to do!” He hiccups “They, they threatened me and beaten me, every day, every single day and I, I-“ He never manages to finish his sentence because he breaks into a fit of sobs, drenching the detective’s uniform with his tears.

“It’s okay. Don’t rush yourself.” He assures, trying to sound calm but his voice breaks.

“And I didn’t want to bother you, so, so I, I tried to ignore them but he, he today I caught them doing drugs, and I, I threatened them so they, they hit me and punch me and-“

“No need to say more.” Johnny stops him, sounding on the verge of tears as he holds him closer to his chest and Haechan lets himself be hidden by a tall figure of his and lets his shoulder shake.

But only he knows that his shoulder shakes not by quiet sobs but the laughter that he had been holding onto. Finding it comical knowing that he probably just ruined someone's life. And he doesn't know whatever he should feel concerned that he feels no remorse doing so. But the decision was already made-If he has fallen, he’s dragging everyone down with him.

But when Johnny moves back a bit, it forces his pleased smile to turn into a pained expression once more and he muscles to let more tears pour from his eyes.

“Can you tell me who did that?” He likes how rigid Johnny looks right now-all because of him. Finally, his pain isn’t taken for granted.

“Wong, Wong Yukhei and he, his family-”

“It’s okay, they won’t be able to hurt you anymore. I promise.” And even if Haechan doesn’t believe in broken promises that the detective has given, he nods nonetheless as a part of his play.

And as he watches a few of the policemen rush outside and feels someone gently helping him to stand he can’t help but let a content smile to play on his lips and let his eyes shut, feeling peaceful for the first time.

He passes out for the third time that day.

He’s woken up by the shrill of a child forcing his eyes swiftly opens, oddly he has no hard time doing so. He sits up, feeling the cold touch beneath, and as his fingers dig deeper to the ground he senses the wet touch of the snowy foam.

He scans his surroundings; somehow the crushing pain in his bone is all gone. As he looks around he finds himself in a wooden area, in the dark forest where the snow formed a perfect blanket over nature where the grass was green, now not even a blade is seen, every twig is laden, looking soft and white.

But the idyllic scenery brings an unpleasant feeling, suffocating by an overwhelming feeling of dread suddenly.

He’s been there, he has no doubts. He has seen this forest before but now as he thinks he can’t place its whereabouts. He tries to think, but where he is won’t come to his mind. The scent, the touch, the atmosphere and the air is all too familiar- it tingles every sensation in his body, his mind and heart trying to tell him something he’s unable to understand.

“Is anybody here?” He yells but only echo of his own voice he gets as a response, which fills up the air, resounding from different sides. Haechan’s breath hitches and he takes one step behind, his feet slowly gets swallowed by cloudy snow.

Am I dead? It’s the first thought he gets as he scans the soulless forest, devoid of life-forlorn, cold and dark.

So he runs, not knowing the destination but the urge to get away from this forbidden place takes over his sound mind. Unknown for him he get lost deeper into the woods where not even moonlight reaches, he sees darkness and only darkness but it doesn’t stop his legs from moving forward. He doesn’t stop even when his legs slip on the frozen surface. Doesn’t stop even when bushes dig deeper into his skin, cutting the flesh.

As the tears come, so does sense of déjà vu. He had been here before. He knows the stinging feeling of thorns scrapping against his skin and his feet getting tangled into the mood. He had learned this lesson before but somehow had forgotten it.

Suddenly he’s knocked off from his feet as the weight comes crashing right onto his legs, making him collapse in the gloom of whiteness.

He squeezes his eyes shut as his head comes into touch with a hard surface beneath, he groans, the familiar feeling of headache filling his senses.

When he manages to open his eyes again he’s met with ogling black eyes staring intensively at him and so Haechan yelps, swiftly moving in a sitting position.

He stares right back at the child sitting atop of him, wordlessly dazing at him. “Hello?” Haechan voices unsure, his tone light, full of confusion.

The kid just stares at him through his knitted brows for a moment, looking oddly angry at Haechan but then his chin wobbles, so do his lips and his eyes glisten in the moonlight with fresh tears and the next moment Haechan finds himself being wrapped in suffocating embrace, the short arms of the kid knit tightly around his neck. “I missed you.” The child croaks, burying himself deeper into Haechan’s warmth. “I missed you so much.” He nuzzles his head into crook of Haechan’s neck, leaving Haechan with no other option but to rub comforting circles on the child’s back, feeling his petite body shake as quiet, wet sniffs ring into his ears.

He exhales, still bewildered by the whole situation but he still rocks his body back and worth, humming a melody he doesn’t know the name of but his mind is telling him that he is doing what’s right.

After what felt like hours, the kid finally calms down and forces his face of Haechan’s shoulder and gazes at him with unsaid pain in between his eyes and Haechan stares back, counting rose spots splattered on little boy’s face left aftermath of crying. “Are you okay?” He asks, continues to rub his back as the child chokes out unshed sobs before sniffling the wet snort and nodding. “Where are your parents? It’s dangerous to be alone in the woods.”

And Haechan doesn’t know if he said something wrong because the kid’s eyes glisten with tears once more, so in a sense of panic Haechan pulls him into yet another hug, putting his chin onto his small shoulder he sighs in worry and his eyes dance around the corner of the woods where small cottage houses can be seen in the distance.

“I know it’s dangerous.” Boy whispers, his voice muffled against Haechan’s body. “But I was waiting for you.”

“For me?” he squeaks, not masking the surprise and the confusion he feels.

“You don’t recognize me, I know.” The kid mumbles against his skin and he’s sound so sure, yet so sad and Haechan wants to do nothing but to take this little boy’s worries away. “I’m Minhyung.”

“Okay, Minhyung, I’m Haechan, it’s nice to meet you but we really need to find your parents.” He says as he gently nudges the kid by his arm and flinching away from his reach.

The kid, Minhyung, purses his lips, looking deep into the thoughts before glancing at something in the back and when Haechan follows his gaze he finds something lying on the ground covered in snow. He gasps in horror when he realizes it’s a human. “And who is it?” he questions in panic as jumps from the ground, leaving the kid to tackle into the soft blanket of snow.

He tries to make a step but something holds him down, not letting his limbs move.

“Oh, it’s me.” Minhyung says matter of a fact, leaving Haechan gawking at him for a moment before he shakes his head and tries to move once more. “There is no use, you can’t save me.” He adds, now clinging to his leg, blocking the movement further. “And you can’t leave either.”

He feels a sudden dread take over his senses as he tries to move his legs but no avail, but the kid stays unfazed, peeking at him from the ground. “We-We can’t leave him, we, I need to help him!”

This triggers something in the kid because he wails then “No! don’t leave me!” his screams echo through empty woods. “Don’t leave me again, please!” But Haechan through gritted teeth manages to finally make a step forward. And as he walks into the snowstorm the kind never stops to weep, to beg him to stay.

“I’m not leaving you Minhyung!” Haechan shouts then, cutting the kid’s cry short. “But we need to help him, or you, I don’t know!” He drops his weight onto his knees as he checks the lump body lying in front of him. He quickly dusts the snowflakes that had managed cover him all from head to toe. He shakes the cold, lifeless body but with no reaction in response.

Haechan curses under his breath, trying to lie him onto his back to check for possible injuries but as soon as he touches him he feels a cold touch of the skin on his fingernails, so he flinches.

And when he focuses his blurred vision, his breath hitches inside his throat, momentarily taking his breath away.

It’s him.

Well...younger version of him. Glaring at him with furious eyes and yanking the boy’s arm from Haechan’s reach.

“What is going on?” he whispers under his breath and turns back to Minhyung in search of answers to his many questions but Minhyung is just sitting next to him, calmly making snowballs.

“Today we’re going to die.” Minhyung musters, smashing the snowball against the ground, and watches it disappear with small bits of snow. “And we’re going to stay here forever and nothing will be able to separate us anymore.”

“What the fuck-What are you saying? I can’t die, you, he, we can’t die!” Haechan yells in despair but the kids seem unfazed. Huffing the last bits of breathe he nudges unconscious boy once more. “Hey! Hey! Can you hear me? Please wake up!” he yells so loud that he feels his vocal chords scrape but he never stops shaking the body, even when tears pour down onto his face. “Please wake up, we can die like this.” He begs then and puts his face into his chest, preying to feel or to hear a heartbeat but with no avail. He sobs down the pleading as he weakly shakes him.

“I want to stay here.” Suddenly his own voice rings into his ears, well the voice of younger version of him. “I’m happy here, I want to be with Minhyung forever.” He adds.

And as Haechan observes his own small face, full of scars and bruises, his heart clenches with pity and guilt-guilty because he wasn’t strong enough to protect this innocent kid.

“Please, we should leave, I promise I will be strong for you, okay? I will never let everyone to hurt you, so please, let’s leave.” He croaks and reaches his hand to touch him by his cheek but the kid jumps back, holding his dear life onto the soulless body.

“We can never leave the forest!” Suddenly his before brown eyes morph into nothing but blackness as he roars, his voice drops octave lower, making shiver go down into Haechan's spine.

And he may not understand the importance of the forest but thing he knows is that the time is tickling as he sees his fingers glow, fade into the air. “No! No! No!” He wails and wraps his arms tighter around the boy this time, trying everything in his might to warm up the frozen form. “Please Minhyung or whatever you are, please open your eyes!” he hears the kids screech, their small hands wrapping around his arms, trying to force himself off the boy but Haechan uses his strength in his advantage and stays glued to his chest.

And miraculously his prays were heard for the first time as he hears, the soft, almost inaudible beat of a heart so he yanks himself off, cupping his face he tries to get a better look of him. “Please stay with me, okay? Open your eyes.” And slowly but surely the boy flutters his beautiful eyes open, his eyes unfocussed but enough to bring Haechan to tears as he gently drops his forehead onto his and his lips leave a relieved sigh.

He sees a white fog surrender them, consume them all so with a last glance he looks at the kids who now gaze at him with tear-stained faces, wordless hurt written all over them. “I promise I will protect you, you will never feel the pain anymore, I promise!” He says sternly, gently patting his younger self by his head, and with that everything washes in nothing but whiteness.

The white light vanishes into a thin air, showing the washed-out walls to his display. The only source of keeping him awake is the sound of beeping as each bell hammers inside of his skull.

It takes a while but eventually he manages to put himself in the sitting position, his bones uncomfortably touching the hard core hospital bed.

He grimaces, the well known sharp scent of medicinal tickles his senses. Haechan looks around, observing his setting as the distinct sounds of people’s laughter and weeping morphs into one noise, flooding his ears.

He cheeks his sprained wrist which have been neatly wrapped in bandage, and suddenly he has an urge to smash his hand against the wall-he feels nothing and all to overwhelmed at once. What a stressful day.

His internal thoughts are cut short as the nurse walks inside the palate, holding a clipboard and scribbling something on the paper. “Hello Hae-Haechan? ” She voices, clearly uninterested and bothered to be struggling to pronounce his name. Haechan scoff at her arrogance and rolling his eyes he averts his gaze on something else but after lack of response she peeks up so Haechan is forced to nod. “So how are you feeling?” She asks, notably wanting to leave.

And even if he’s still feels too much in pain to ignore, he physically forces himself to bent his lips into deceitful smile. “I'm feeling fine, can I leave now?”

She raises her brows, checking something on papers again. “We can’t let you go without your guidance.”

_Right..._

Johnny probably had already left-something might came up again, something _more important_ than Haechan.

Auntie Kim probably will make excuses too.

But somehow Haechan doesn’t feel hurt at all, for the first time the heaving disappointment doesn’t sit inside his stomach.

It’s an outré position to be in, to feel nothing, to have every emotion wiped away with no trace. And as the anomalous sensation spreads inside of him, he realizes that something has changed, something he can’t point what but he feels delighted to have a crushing weight of worries lifted from his shoulders.

So Haechan just hums distressed, with a small, careful movement places his feet to the ground. “I don’t have guidance so I'm gonna leave on my own.”

And when he softly hops from the bed he sees panic wash over the nurse's face, wiping before indifferent expression and Haechan once again is overpowered by feeling of smugness. “Wait! You, you can’t leave like this, it’s said by a rule so wait before we call our parents.”

 _Oh._ Haechan crooks his lips in a devilish grin and with a carefree voice deadpans. “I don’t have parents.”

The nurse flinches, guilt written all over her face and Haechan can’t help but savvier the irresistible feeling of zealously to overthrow the disrespectful nurse. It’s an addicting sensation.

Without giving her a second to gather her thoughts he stumbles outside the palate only to be toppled by the strong chemical aroma of the hospital. The white walls bring back nausea and with sluggish steps, he walks through the crowd.

Many nameless people pass by, bumping and shoving his scarred body and for a moment his fingers tremble, the familiar feeling of fear almost overtakes his senses but then he quirks his chin up and crawls his way out with much more force and determination.

Too caught in a moment he doesn’t catch a hospital bed rolling with full speed towards him and only when it almost crushes against him he manages to jump.

From the corner of his tired eyes he sees a boy lying on the white sheets that contrasts remarkably with his greyed skin and blue lips.

For a moment the time slows down, losses its pace as Haechan watches the corpse-looking male being rushed towards the emergency room.

But his view is blocked as the middle-aged men sprints towards the bed. “Mark!” He weeps, trying to get hold of his hand only to be stopped by doctors who with a force drag him back. “Please! Doctor, please, please save my son!”

The man collapses on the shining floor as the boy disappears in a sight and so Haechan watches, doesn’t have might take his eyes off from the poor parent who continuously blabbers the pleading words to no one.

That must be nice. He thinks. To be loved like that boy. Haechan hopes that he doesn't take it for granted.

Suddenly man looks up, probably sensing the eyes on him, and Haechan jolts, taken aback to be gazed at with wide, helpless eyes which reflect familiarity, looking at him as if had been done millionth of times before.

“D-Donghyuck?” The man croaks, tears flushing. And Haechan frowns, not recognizing the name thrown towards him. But then the male shakes his head, and with sad laugh murmurs above the whisper “I'm must gone crazy.” But Haechan heard him loud and clear, settling an uncomfortable feeling inside of him, that crushes his heart.

He doesn’t recalls how long he had been rudely staring at the distressed parent but then a boy, looking the same age as him comes rushing towards the man-jumping into his arms in a tight hug.

“Where is Mark? Is he okay? Please tell me he’s okay!” He sobs into his shoulder and man hugs him closer, now being the one comforting the guy. “I don’t, I don’t know when he-“ His sentence is cut short by a loud sob. “I looked around and he, he already was on the ground and, and pills-“

“It’s okay Jaemin, it’s not your fault.” The man assures even if his voice breaks. “Mark is going to be okay.”

And Haechan hopes he will be okay too, he wishes nothing but the best for a boy who was lucky enough to have so many people caring for him. He wishes he would understand that.

And with that he makes his exit, whistling a melody he doesn’t even know the name of.

_How cruel life can be for people so young like them._

_The very next day Lucas was expelled and even if I never caught them using drugs, I’ve spent enough time to gain the dirty information which I’m sure will forever be written in their records._

_So what if I ruined his life? So what if I don’t feel any remorse doing so?_ _So what if I am phantom-bruise, torn tether, a feral orphan? I’m telling you now, I am never going to die. I want people to be afraid of hurting me._

_I did not ask this, this hideous creature of cracked skin and snarling voice. But this poison of flesh is the only gift people ever gave me. So I will stretch this skin until I fill every crevice and I will wear it until you regret that you created it. You made me a creature to be feared. So fear me._

_I think I’ve hurt enough, even if I still don’t know why but In the end the only thing I understood is that the thorns in front of me weren’t there to block my way. They were protecting me._

_And as the last bits of the bridge has fallen, I will now be able to keep myself safe and if someone will dare to take a step forward, I will make sure they will fear me._

_And perhaps I wasn’t able to protect my past from scars and bruises, but I hope that I did some good for my future, and I hope future me lives a life he’s proud of._

_If not, I hope you have the strength to starts all over again._

_August 10th of 2013_

_A letter for myself_

Later in the night, Haechan dreams about a terrifying, yet beautiful forest again.

It snows and it is so quiet that he can hear himself breath mixed with the sound of the snowfield susurrating underneath his feet, marking the untouched white pliant land with his footprints.

And as he walks through the calm snowstorm the moonlight brightens, showing everything to his display-naked trees and brave flowers peeking through iced powder giving the soft touch of color to whished white scenery-witch hazel, flashing bold yellow, looming even in blanketed by snowflakes and darkness of the night; Golden daffodils, petals bright with power, stretched in never-ending line beneath the trees, dancing in the breeze; Glory of the snow guiding him a way, azure petals peeping up along the road and as he follows their lead the earth beneath stiffens, feeling rougher than before soft touch of the snow.

He stops at his tracks, looking around he finds himself at the dead end, at the edge of the cliff and so he tilts his head down, studies the scenery bellow but sights nothing but indigo sky splattered with thousands of shining stars, twinkling on the Milky Way. And as odd it sounds to look at the world turned upside down, he doesn’t feel unsettled even for a bit.

He knows he’s deep into slumber, that he has landed on the wonders of his dreamland-only place in the world where he feels at home and belonged. 

He closes his eyes and breaths in the night and feels the stars fill up his soul. He savors the feeling of being nowhere and no emotion heaving his heart because he knows that once he wakes up this sensation of pure calmness will be forgotten, put in the drawer of his memories which cannot be remembered.

And soon after he feels a light needling touch on his shoulder so when he turns around he’s met with two familiar kids sitting behind of him, not sparing him a glance but it makes a smile crawl on his lips regardless.

But then younger version of him tilts his head upwards from the ground, stopping whatever the game he was playing with Minhyung and tilts his head to the side, signaling him something.

So following the line he finds a boy sitting on the margin of the cliff, gazing into a space and his legs calmly dangling in air, humming something under his breath.

So with slow steps, he walks towards him, carefully sitting beside. He peers at him for a moment, notices that his skin is as pale as ever but not as pearly like on the hospital bed-some life has been splashed onto his colors, appearing more alive. 

Not knowing how to jump right onto the conversation and maybe discuss the elephant in the room, he settles on asking simply. “So you woke up?” he questions, dancing around the topic he doesn’t know if he even wants to bring up. But he hopes that the reason the boy-Minhyung, or Mark, he doesn’t know what to call him-is right next to him, means that he’s alive.

He nods plainly but it’s enough to buzz something resembling relief inside Haechan’s chest, but he still is not looking at his way, blankly staring into space. “Are you…Are you feeling okay?” Haechan tries to not come off as demanding but he needs to know, he needs to be sure that he’s safe and sound, so his tone drops lower, softer than before, trying to sound as gentle as he can muster and continues to look worriedly at his profile.

Another beat of silence rings into the quiet forest, only the sound of the breeze rustling through snow interrupts their senses. But then he finally, but painfully slow, turns his face towards him, his round eyes are the first thing that catches Haechan’s eyes.

Because they sheen, brighten his existence the same tender way they did when he first dreamed of him, lost into the dusky woods where these ash eyes first told him a tale of heartbreak and loss, but hope at all costs and deep need of love, awakening unfamiliar sentiments in him.

And they absorbed all on him at the church, same dazzling eyes, unveiling untold truth.

But they were also the same eyes he saw life being wasted right in front of him nights before, glasslike and gleaming, transparent even, reflecting his own bruised and bloodied face back but dimmed beneath, silenced for all. 

So Haechan takes his time to learn these deep orbs better-There is a storm in his eyes, rocky seas from a hundred stormy nights but also there is light, a warm wind from a distant shore, so that’s where Haechan heads, towards the light that shines in his eyes like diamonds shinning in their full brilliance. They are beautiful. But cold. And hard. Reminding Haechan of the stars he loves to gaze at from his window each night.

His eyes told stories of long walks together, of love lasting forever, sung stories with sad endings and looked into his eyes and saw starry summer nights, tan lines, football fields lit up on Friday night and he knew he was back home.

So Haechan closes his eyes softly, enamored with the way he remembered him; body, soul, and all.

It would be great if he could remember it all once he woke up, left the heavenly state of his dreamland. But he knows it’s too much to ask for, he knows that the universe, his doomed fate isn’t on his side.

“I will, as long as I’ll be able to meet you again.” Mark absurdly decides to speak, instantly stopping the trainwreck of Haechan’s thoughts. 

“But will we?” Haechan asks unsure, his voice quavering because he’s afraid of putting his hopes too high. Mark just nods in response. “How do you know all of this?” He questions now curious-because no matter how many times he has landed on the wonders of this forest, he was never able to make a sense of it and Mark, he seems to know this place very well.

“Because you visit the forest when you need it the most and me…I’m trapped in here, I’m forbidden from leaving, I come here every time I close my eyes, some nights I remember some I don’t. So I’ve learned the ways everything works in here.” Mark mumbles and leans his chin onto his knees, again gazing in the distance whilst his fingers play with the snow beneath.

“Can you tell me when will we meet?” When the question leaves Haechan’s lips, Mark flinches, hesitation written all over his face as he throws a short, nervous glance towards the kids who are now glaring at their direction with wide black eyes.

“I cannot.” He sees breathy, looking Haechan with shameful eyes. “But even if I told you, we won’t remember each other even though the answers will be right in front of our faces.”

Haechan hums “Just like in the church and at the hospital.” He muses, finally understanding a small part of this universe.

“Sorry,” Mark says suddenly, his chin wobbling as Haechan notices his eyes glisten with wet tears-he feels something break inside his heart.

“Can you tell me about me? Who am I or what kind of person I was?” He asks, even if he knows the probable answer.

And as he thought Mark whispers a broken “I’m sorry.” He hides his face into his knees, rubbing few tears away, that managed to escape “Everything is my fault.” He adds and his voice sounds so small, so broken that Haechan doesn’t even care to learn about what he’s apologizing for.

“You’re struggling no less than me, no need to blame yourself.” The images of him lying on the hospital bed come rushing to him, making it hard to breath. He never ever wants to see that sight in his life ever again.

“How can you say that? Everything turned this way because of me!” Mark yells, looking at him with wide, bewildered eyes but Haechan just smiles, gently patting him onto his hand that has been fisted around the snow.

“But finding you is also the only thing that makes me keep going so don’t dare-“He clears his throat-the words almost slipped from his lips “Be strong, so we can fix the mess we’ve made.” But Mark isn’t speaking, he’s just looking at him with his tragic eyes and Haechan can feel the nausea coming, the feeling of worry forming like a lump in his throat “Promise me? That you’ll stay strong for me and for us? Min-“Mark flinches at the name and Haechan guesses he doesn’t want to be addressed by it so he tries again “Mark.” He says more sternly this time, even if his voice wavers and finally Mark nods again, but averts his gaze. And Haechan isn’t sure if he feels relieved at all. “I can always meet you here, right?”

“Well, it’s a dream state after all, nothing here works logically but me, and us, will always be there in reminisce that we still exist, that we all are waiting.” Mark gestures towards the kids that once again were consumed into their own little bubble, ignoring their existence.

Haechan sighs “It’s nice.” He says sadly through a forced smile “To know that there is at least one person who is waiting for me.”

For a while, Mark falls quiet but then he dares to speak again, his voice more confident this time. “Do you see the houses in the distance?” Haechan watches as the cottages in the distance light one by one, resembling fireflies. “Everyone there is waiting for you to come back, some passed away waiting for you to knock on their doors again, one’s scars are so deep that they forbid their own kids to go into this forest and some went on living their lives but the existence of yours stays somewhere in their minds. Not only me, your parents, my parents, our friends, and neighbors, countless people are waiting for you to come back. Never forget that.”

And the way Mark speaks so confidently, so truthfully-it brings tears to his eyes because he wants to remember every person he has named, he wants to remember his past, every small and meaningless memory, he wants to recollect them all. “Mark, I don’t know, I don’t know what kind of person you knew me as but I, I’m changing, I know that I’m changing but I don’t think for better, so.” He clears his throat as the tears that flood his throat make it harder for him to speak “So please bear with me when we meet, alright?” And Mark smiles so sweetly, so gently that it makes tears finally pour down to his cheeks so he drops his face into his hands, trying to hide his horrendous state.

But then he feels fingers lightly brush through his hair, put a soft weight onto his ears and when he looks up he sees Mark prettily putting a small daisy behind his ear. “I will never give up on you, and you know that.”

“Do you promise?” Haechan croaks as he waits for any uncertainty wash over the male. But it never does. He just beams wider and gently intertwines their fingers.

_“I promise.”_

And they sat there, hand in hand as the stars went out.


	4. Like the butterfly effect (it's so easy to regret)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! The new chapter is ready if I kinda hate it the way it turned out but after writing and editing over and over again is the best one I could come up with so feel free to share your opinions with me ^^
> 
> Now for the sources I've used that you can read if you're interested futhermore:  
> [Taiwanese tale of fireflies](https://islandfolklore.com/fireflies)  
> I couldn't explain the tale well because I had to write it in a child's language so I think the story was rather vague in the end.  
> [Arche](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arche)  
> [Cause and Effect](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Causality#:~:text=Causality%20\(also%20referred%20to%20as,partly%20dependent%20on%20the%20cause.)  
> [Post hoc ergo propter hoc](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Post_hoc_ergo_propter_hoc#:~:text=Post%20hoc%20ergo%20propter%20hoc%20\(Latin%3A%20'after%20this%2C,been%20caused%20by%20event%20X.%22)  
> [Mill's Methods](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mill%27s_Methods)  
> [Causal Loop](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Causal_loop#:~:text=A%20causal%20loop%20is%20a,of%20the%20first%2Dmentioned%20event.)  
> [Cascading Failure](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cascading_failure#:~:text=A%20cascading%20failure%20is%20a,other%20parts%20and%20so%20on.)  
> [Etiology](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Etiology)  
> [Potentiality and Actuality](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Potentiality_and_actuality)  
> You can find me on:  
> [CC](https://curiouscat.qa/Sunau03)  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Sunau0?s=09)

On the warm summer night, the sea of dappled dark, a feast of sound and spark- on the bronzy soft sky the moon shines over the hill, pouring moonbeam’s gentle light, making nature’s self fairer, flooding the forest and field and roll with magical light; the trees, the vines, the flowers are astir with tender desire as Minhyung and Donghyuck lay on the rough bark and leathered leaves, gazing at the stars that became old and dim, glimmering above Minhyung’s front yard.

Donghyuck, feeling weary and drowsy after playing the whole day, lets his eyes rest and savors the feeling of a touch of warm and shadowed breeze coming from the deep forest that is seen as nothing but gloominess, and he smells his way among the trees.

But then a gentle nudge startles his senses, waking him up from his short-cut nap and so he frowns but he forces his eyes to open ajar, only to see Minhyung pointing his finger at something up in the sky.

Following the direction he catches gold-bronze fluttering, wriggling down the sky. It’s summer now-the season of fireflies. And he sees them, dancing orbs of light, stirring and glowing brightly, being effortlessly beautiful.

Now he sees them, then he doesn't.

These tiny stars whose only hope is that they will outlast the night if they stick to it and burn if they blink again in the face of the blind darkness-brief as it is, as fragile.

And so these fireflies dot and scamp and burn there, even if their own glowing will soon fade out of sight.

Donghyuck knows he wouldn't be able to catch them even if he wanted to. But that’s okay because he doesn’t want to. He really just wants to fall asleep watching them dance in the light of the lingering stars.

He wishes upon a firefly on a warm, dark summer night as they light up the stars in the sky to warm up his heart.

“Want to hear a story?” Minhyung murmurs excitedly, yet tiredly and Donghyuck just hums groggily in response, upset to be awakened by his peaceful slumber once more. “Do you know how fireflies were born?”

Donghyuck rolls onto his side, now gazing bleary-eyes at the older, blinking lazily. He shakes his head softly and Minhyung’s own dozy eyes light up with thrill. “My mom told me that once upon a time there were two sisters, living with their dad.” He yawns, cutting his sentence short but shaking the sleepiness away he goes on. “But one day dad didn’t come back so older sister went to find him in the forest, but her younger sister followed her.”

“I would too.” Donghyuck interrupts absurdly and after shifting for a while, he finally finds a more comfortable position to lie next to Minhyung. He closes his eyes again as Minhyung’s voice lulls him to dreamland.

Minhyung huffs exasperated and clears his throat before opening his mouth once again. “But it was very dark so the younger sister got lost.” Donghyuck peeks his eye open on that and with a frown, he listens more closely this time, even if he’s unpleased with the direction the story is going. “So she started praying that God will give her light to find her sister.”

But then Minhyung looks up, pouting, trying to remember the story so Donghyuck whines softly and pinches him on his arm, making him yelp. “Then?” He complains in impatience.

“Um, I think in the morning others found her in the lake but there were shining orbs around her! And this is how fireflies were made!” He finishes enthusiastically, waving his arms in the air as if to explain better.

But Donghyuck just stares at him unimpressed. “So what happened to her? Did she find her sister?” He bombards him with questions as he leans his lightweight onto his arms, getting a better view of the older.

Minhyung scrunches his nose and looks up at the dark sky once more, taking the sight of glimmering orbs that shine in the night. “I don’t know, I guess fireflies are still searching for her.” He whispers and outstretches arm into the sky as if trying to catch one of them.

Donghyuck follows his gaze, dazing idly at the fireflies, but now with sour, bittersweet feeling forming inside of him the more he looks at them so with a sigh he lets his weight to drop on Minhyung’s shoulder-who just puffs in pain but does nothing to get away from his grasp. 

And so they go back to their original state, lying on the grass and aimlessly gazing at the dark, navy sky. “I hope she will find her soon,” Donghyuck whispers and lays his head comfortably onto Minhyung’s arm and he instinctively wraps his lanky limbs around him.

Feeling ever so content and safe in a warm embrace, Donghyuck's eyes flutter shut once more and he doesn’t even register when his mom calls out his name from the distance.

**Parents of a family of 3 vanished without any trace, leaving the kid behind.**

The police were called after neighbors complained about the noises coming out from the family’s residence. 

After police went to investigate the scene at first no signs of struggle were found.

But then a child was discovered hiding in the closet but there was no trace of his parents and police verdicts for possible kidnapping or homicide.

The family was last seen on November of 2003-

Haechan huffs piqued and without giving a spare glance he turns his phone off. The case was going so well at first, well of course not for the family but him-the story sounded so familiar like his. But the dates didn’t add up, there was no way that the news outlet could be talking about people he was searching for.

With a low growl, he bumps his head onto the desk-his body tense, on the edge as the irritation settles into his bones.

He doesn’t know wherever to feel happy that there are so many cases alike or to be concerned that so many families are disappearing in thin air.

But even if he had more stories to work with-nothing useful ever came out from them.

Sometimes he wishes he was rich enough to hire a personal detective, or had anyone to help him out but who was willing to help a broke university student who just happened to be the unluckiest person to be born?

Only a mere thought about his finances is enough to bring a migraine, making his head thud with pain so he just closes his eyes and tries to ease his agitated mood.

But he flinches when suddenly the light dims out and lifting his head he finds professor Moon placing the slide-show on.

Professor claps his hands and clears his throat to gain the audience's attention. “Okay class, now it's my turn to ask you questions. I’m going to start with a rather simple and childish one: What came first, the chicken or the egg?” The room goes silent for a moment but then a few snickers can be heard from the sides but the professor just smiles softly-was already expecting this reaction.

“Egg.” The student declares confidently, mockingly even and Haechan clicks his tongue quietly, annoyed with the arrogant tone of the male. “It was scientifically proven that eggs are much older than chickens. Dinosaurs laid eggs, the fish that first came out of the sea laid eggs, and the weird articulated monsters that swam in the warm seas did too.” But his before confident voice wavers as the professor Moon stands there wordlessly, leaning his back against the desk with his arms crossed. “Well, um unless you’re asking about chicken’s egg. But it also is proven that at some point in evolutionary history when there were no chickens, two birds that were almost-but-not-quite chickens mated and laid an egg that hatched into the first chicken. So in that case the chicken came first and the first chicken’s egg had to wait until the first chicken laid it.”

The professor throws a gentle grin at the student and inhaling, he claps his hands once again. “Thank you for your answer and technically you’re correct but keep in mind that it’s a philosophy class, not the science lab. Here, we don’t let science explain philosophy but rather let science be explained by philosophy.” The male then averts his gaze, muttering something under his breath, clearly displeased and Haechan can’t help but chuckle softly at his deserved embarrassment.

Taeil turns his attention back to the general audience once more. “Anyone else wants to share their opinions?” Nothing but dead air flashes through the room, confused yet intrigued students gaze at their professor excitedly to elaborate which makes Taeil sigh at their hopelessness and slowly he walks towards his seat. He sits down with a low grunt and changes the slide. "What is _Arche?_ It is a Greek word and it translates to beginning, origin, or source of action, name it the way you want. And now when we made it clear, my next question will be: How can something start?”

“What exactly do you mean?” The familiar husky voice of Mark rings inside Haechan’s ears and he unconsciously peeks to his back at said male's direction-but as subtly as he can, careful to not be caught staring.

“Anything, how can anything start?”

“Like, how did the world start?” Another student flows into the conversation but yet again the professor just shakes his head, still smiling-pleased to see students more active with their answers than before.

“No, in anything I mean, _anything_ .” And so everyone falls mute, most of the students visibly deep into their thoughts-Haechan included, he looks up at the ceiling, trying to come up with a possible answer. _How did everything start?_

“With… Big bang?” A girl musters shyly, clearly uncertain but the assuring smile on the professor’s lips just widens.

“And what did big bang do?”

“Made the universe? It was the start of everything.”

“So the big bang caused the world to start.” Mr. Moon muses while gently leaning against the desk, he puts his chin into his palms, watching students sanguinely. “But what did cause a big bang then?”

“Every speck of the energy jammed into a very tiny point and it made a huge explosion, a big bang.” Mark's voice echoes through the room again, gaining Haechan's attention once more. He purses his lips as he observes the boy sitting behind him-he has always been smart, he notes but Haechan’s expression quickly sours as he remembers their encounter a few days prior-he can’t remember the last time he'd been so honest or embarrassing, and in front of a stranger to top it all. 

Abashed at the emotions bubbling within him, he turns away and folds his arms across his chest but still feeling uneasy he sits on because he simply cannot get up and take his leave.

“Okay, that’s right but there must be something that had caused these energies to speck together.” And then the light bulb switched above Haechan and he dares to say that he understood the whole meaning behind the professor's questions. 

So he quickly joins the debate. “So, if I’m guessing right, what you’re trying to say is that the start of everything is more than one event leading to one another, right?” Haechan feels the familiar eyes burn into his flesh but this time, he doesn’t dare to look back.

Moon glances at Haechan, his expression telling that he was waiting for him to speak up as his face breaks into a beam. “You’re close Haechan, thank you. But let me explain better”

Haechan looks delighted as he smiles shyly to himself but when the stinging sensation of being watched doesn’t vanish he twirls his face behind to find Mark gazing at him with his usual fond smile.

Haechan scowls, incapable to read through the expression the male's wearing so as not to beat a dead horse he quickly averts his gaze back to the professor.

“Let’s say that one event, process, and state or object causes the production of another event, process, state, or object. We call it an effect. This means the cause is partly responsible for the effect, and the effect is partly dependent on the cause. In general cause, all lie in its _past_ , but an effect can turn to be a cause of many other effects, which all lie in its _future_.” When he takes into the puzzled demeanor of the students, looking utterly flabbergasted and lost-he exhales heavily and with a loud, distressing screech he sits up from the chair and walks towards the blackboard, and for a moment only sounds of chalk scraping against the surface can be heard in the room.

“To explain easier, since event Y followed event X, event Y must have been caused by event X. And avoiding event X will prevent event Y. Do you understand now?” He taps the chalk against the board, looking more agitated than before as he observes the faces of his students. They don’t look as bemused as before but still, uncertainty is visible on their expressions. 

Haechan taps pencil onto his lip, taking everything that is written on the board, and with an exhale he leans back. “But if every effect is caused by events then it can’t be only X and Y, right?”

Professor nods happily, the day is going back to the same routine-only Haecahn and the professor being the ones who debate. “That’s correct! Let’s say” He turns to the desk once again, writing more letters this time. “A B C D occurs together with w x y z and A E F G occur together with w t u v, then what does it mean?”

“A is the cause or the effect of w.” Haechan is the one to answer again which gains a few annoyed groans and the sound of the tongue clicking. Haechan ignores them.

“That’s right Haechan! But in a situation when A B C D occurs together with w x y z and B C D occur together with x y z then it means that A may be the cause, or the effect or A is just part of the cause of w.” When he finishes writing all of this he puts chalk back to its place and shaking the white dust off his palms he walks towards his seat once more. “Because as mentioned before to cause an effect we need more causes leading up to the main cause of the effect. So if you’ll think closely, we fall into some kind of loop-we call it a causal loop, which means a sequence of events, actions, information, objects, or people is among the causes of another event, which is in turn among the causes of the first-mentioned event. We see stuff like this a lot in the media, especially in shows about time travel.” And the professor exhales heavily after finally finishing the sentence and grabs a bottle of water.

“So, something like the butterfly effect?” The girl from before speaks again, more confident this time.

“That’s true, call it the butterfly effect, chain reaction, domino effect, or snowball effect, the idea behind remains the same.” Finally, some understanding lights up on students’ faces and the professor can only sigh in relief but he then clears his throat, not finished with speaking. 

“But we also have seen it have a negative outcome, right?” Students nod. “For example let’s name the Cascading failure, it may occur when one part of the system fails. When this happens, other parts must then compensate for the failed component. This in turn overloads these nodes, causing them to fail as well, prompting additional nodes to fail one after another. And again we fall into the loop.” Haechan scowls, not fully understanding. “So how do you think, is there any way to break this loop to avoid the catastrophe?”

“We again go back to the same topic, we need to find the cause of the loop.” He says.

“Not a cause but a reasoning of the loop.” Haechan frowns but the professor just smiles thankfully before sitting more comfortably in his seat. “Every event, every cause happens for a reason. And in Greek, it’s called Etiology, which translates to "giving a reason for." He goes to the next slide. “Psychologist Carl Jung thought that events are "meaningful coincidences" if they occur with no causal relationship yet seem to be meaningfully related. Jung believed that, just as events may be connected by cause and effect, they may also be connected by meaning. And events connected by meaning need not have an explanation in terms of causality, so what do we do then? How can we prevent the loop forming which will lead to the failure of the system?”

“Can it be real? How can we be sure that coincidences can happen? As you said, everything happens for a reason” Mark sounds more agitated this time, fully leaning against the desk and Haechan’s brows perk up, curious to see the sudden mood change in the male.

“We can never be sure like Aristotle has described, a thing that exists potentially does not exist, but the potential does exist.” But before the questions can be explained better the bell rings. “Okay guys, the class is over, thanks for coming but not forget that the last question will be the main topic of your assignment, so think carefully.” He says and turns the lights back on and the room fills with the chaotic sounds of students discussing, gathering their stuff. 

Haechan takes his time folding his papers nicely together, careful not to forget anything, he checks a few more times if everything is in place, and with a tired exhale he finally stands up, putting the bag around his shoulders.

But before he can exist from the corner of his eye he catches the familiar face looking in his direction and he’s already turning his face towards Mark before he can even stop himself.

And for a moment Mark jolts, surprise washes over his face but then his lips crook awkwardly and he weakly lifts his hand, waving at him softly.

Haechan just watches through knitted brows and before he can comprehend any reaction suddenly the images of the incident days before come rushing towards him, making a dreadful feeling of irrational fear to sink in.

And even if his logical side is telling him that Mark probably isn’t a threat he can’t help but watch as the faces of people from his past morph one by one on male’s face.

Freak.

Unloved.

Ugly.

Waste of air.

Unwanted.

The words scream loud in the back of his mind, making him wince and jolt back as the discomforting feeling heaves inside of him.

And the smile on Mark’s face wavers and his hand also comes slowly going down onto his lap.

So shaking his head Haechan quickly emerges from the room, ignoring the hurt expression of the boy. 

Haechan’s phone rings suddenly, cutting his worries short and he answers the unknown number as he walks towards the vending machine-feeling faint from lack of food.

“Hello, am I talking to Haechan?” He’s saluted with a soft-spoken woman’s voice and Haechan greets her back while balancing his phone on his shoulder as he taps the code on the machine with his free hand. “Your report came to my attention and, and” Her voice wavers into a whisper, suddenly sounding out of breath, or on the verge of crying. She clears her throat. “And I found a few similarities, so I was wondering if you, if you wanted to meet up and talk?”

It takes Haechan a moment to comprehend her words and when the realization finally sinks in, he feels his finger tremble. 

He stumbles over his words, stuttering, failing at forming one complete sentence as he struggles to take his notebook from his bag at the same time.

_It’s been a while…When a possible family member reached out to him._

He almost drops his phone and cursing under his breath he finally manages to hold his notebook with the shaking hands-quickly he reads through his packed schedule. “I, um, I’m free tomorrow afternoon, is it, is it fine with you?” And it’s a blatant lie but he guesses he’s allowed to skip a seminar once in a while.

He mentally curses himself for stuttering so much.

But he also can’t help but feel giddy even if he knows that he shouldn’t let his hopes up because then the disappointment will hurt so much more. But he decides it’s not the right time to drown himself in negative thoughts, not when he’s possibly so close to the finish line.

All he can do is hope for the better.

He closes his eyes and tries to calm his uneven breathing but his forehead pinches, his expression sour only from thinking how packed his schedule for the next week will be, speaking of schedule, he looks at the clock in panic and rushes to the library in a hope to manage to do some work with his homework before going to the job. The sense of hunger was long forgotten.

  
  


“How long are you going to keep doing that?” Jeno deadpans monotone, his face still buried deep into the book he’s reading.

“Keep doing, what?” Mark flinches a bit, taking his attention off from the Haechan’s back, and looks at his friend who just sighs and leans back onto his seat, now looking back at him with his red, tired eyes.

“You’ve been glaring at Haechan for the past fifteen minutes.” And Mark can only yelp softly but before he can protest Jaemin is already looking curiously at him with perked brows-which is never good news.

“I wasn’t-“

“You do that a lot, you know. At first, I didn’t think too much into it but now I’m more than curious if someone as oblivious as Jeno has also noticed.” And now it’s Jeno’s turn to make an embarrassingly high pitched sound. Mark just groans and drops his head down. He can feel his headache coming from Jaemin’s nosiness.

“He’s just interesting, that’s it.” He says and glances at Haechan again who is slumped more uncomfortably against the desk, reading something passionately.

“In interesting you mean utterly terrifying?” Jaemin chirps with a raised brow and when Mark glares angrily at him he just shrugs and slurps onto his drink way too loudly to be appropriate by the library codex. “Are we talking about the same person? As in Haechan that made professor Moon cry?” Mark throws a dirty glance at him, checking Haechan’s direction just to make sure he didn’t hear the conversation. He catches him wrapping arms around his torso, clutching onto his stomach and Mark frowns, gazing at him worriedly before he turns to Jaemin again, looking irritated.

“Stop being rude, what if he hears us?” Jaemin puts his palms up in a defensive manner. And Mark just grunts once again and flips his notebook way too aggressively. “He apologized anyways and also the professor was being an ass so it wasn’t completely undeserved.” He pouts as he scribbles meaningless words onto the sheet.

“Do you like him or something?” Suddenly Jeno questions and when Mark looks up he finds both of his friends looking at him with full of curiosity. Mark’s face sours as he stares at his friends like they’ve grown second heads.

“No? How the fuck-how did you even come to his conclusion?” Mark objects a bit too defensively which just makes his friends’ brows disappear deeper in the hairline. 

“I mean...everyone kind of dislikes him? so I was just wondering why you seem so invested,” Jeno explains calmly but the frown just deepens on Mark’s face. Suddenly feeling unreasonably angry.

“He’s not a bad person, why do you guys keep talking about him like that?” And Mark knows why. Haechan isn’t known for, well, being a delicate and friendly person, and even if he knows his friends mean no harm-it still leaves a sour taste afterward seeing them judge someone only based on others’ assumptions. He has been there. And he knows how much it hurts.

He glances at the mentioned male worriedly once more and catches him rubbing his temples harshly, before ruffling his purple locks.

“We never said he was. But I wouldn’t try to do anything silly to anger him.” Jaemin protests, quickly explaining himself before he turns his body back a bit and observes Haechan who is still crunched uncomfortably onto his seat, clearly distressed with something. “Besides you’re right he’s one of a kind of person.” He chuckles softly before turning towards his friends again. “If I had even half of his brain, I wonder if my life would be easier.”

Jeno scoffs amused before flicking him lightly onto his forehead. “What’s the point of being smart if he looks dead most of the time?” Mark’s face scrunches more as he stares at the male who hasn’t changed his position, his arms still wrapped firmly around his stomach. “I wonder if he’s alright…His life must be very hard.”

And Jaemin nods as he sighs, his friends going back to reading but Mark’s eyes never leave the male’s figure afterward and he clicks his tongue, feeling uneasy. 

He catches him standing up, at least trying to, but his legs buckle making him slump down onto his seat with a quiet groan once more and he clutches his stomach tighter.

And he watches him walk towards the bookshelf with staggered, fragile steps, and with that he disappears behind one of the wooden, tall shelves. 

“I'll be back in a moment,” Mark says hurriedly, not waiting for their response as he rushes towards the aisle where Haechan went.

It doesn’t take long to find the said boy, he’s standing in front of the bookshelf searching for something and Mark seas clear wrinkles around his forehead, his brows frowned and bits of sweet glistening in the sunlight that shines through the window behind him and it doesn’t take Haechan much time to sense his presence so he sighs and drops his head down, clear irritation on his expression.

“What do you want?” He questions tiredly, his voice coming off as almost breathless. Before turning his head to the side a bit and looking at Mark with dozy, dropped eyes.

Mark grimaces, an awkward smile playing on his lips as he rubs the back of his head. “I just wanted to say hi?” And he knows his voice isn’t convincing, the tone is more panicky than friendly and he’s sure Haechan can see through that but the boy just continues to stare at him blankly before sighing once more he nods and turns his head towards the bookshelf again.

Mark bites down onto his lip, his feet tapping agitatedly on the floor as he tries to come up with something to keep the conversation going but when his gears never stop working inside his brain he decides to shuffle inside his bag, searching for something.

And Haechan peeks at the sound, observing the boy with his brows pinched and eyes narrowed in a threatening manner.

He waits without batting an eye before they wide in confusion when they land on the chocolate bar that Mark is holding in his direction. “Here.” He says and wiggles the candy a bit.

Haechan gulps, his mouth water in hunger, and he is once again reminded of his starving stomach that aches so much but he just raises his brow, looking at the beaming boy in front of him and he clutches the papers closer to his chest-feeling on the edge out of sudden.

“And why are you giving me this?” He asks as he leans his body onto the wooden furniture, staring expectantly at Mark who just continues to smile even in the piercing gaze.

“Well, um, you kinda didn’t look well before, so I decided that um.” But Mark never finishes his sentence; he just puts it into Haechan’s palm before he can even react.

Haechan just glares at the food as if it’s poison. “I'm not a kid. I can take care of myself so stop bothering me.” He bites back dryly, trying to give the candy-bar back but Mark quickly averts his hand and Haechan clicks his tongue in irritation, moving his arm more swiftly this time. “I said, I don’t want it!” He raps through gritted teeth.

And before Mark can give the chocolate back he swiftly yanks his body backward to be out of reach which only ends Mark getting a paper cut and so Haechan watches as Mark hisses in stinging pain before his eyes drop onto his finger where the blood already has started breaking out, dripping onto his pale skin.

“Just take it, alright? Take it as an apology for the bad experience with a motorcycle, or whatever.” Mark’s voice comes as muffled as he sucks onto the cut, trying to stop the bleeding and Haechan’s scowl only darkens when the boy mentions the encounter days before which he’s still trying to forget. 

And Haechan can only stare as the boy walks away, leaving him behind confused, and with so many unanswered questions-his eyes once again drop down at Mark’s hand where the blood is still dripping from his finger. 

Haechan clicks his tongue, irritated with the whole situation. From the corner of his eyes, he catches the Aero bar still placed neatly on the floor. 

And something pinches inside of him an emotion he can’t pin-point the name of.

“Gee, thanks for waiting for me, very nice of you.” Mark’s voice dripped in sarcasm and irritation both from being ditched and also from struggling to balance his phone onto his shoulder as he washes his hands.

“You were taking too long chirping with Haechan, also we were hungry,” Jaemin mumbles full-mouthed and Mark has an urge to strangle them to death, or to choke them with the burgers they’re eating. He hopes they taste disgusting.

He doesn’t hesitate to finish his call, successfully cutting Jaemin’s ramblings short. And with few shakes, he dries his hand and walks towards the library again to gather his stuff and go on his way to murder his so-called friends.

When he looks around he finds the place relatively empty but the glimpse of a person he’s searching for is nowhere to be seen so with a tired sigh, he starts to gather his belongings but his clumsy hands manage to knock some of the stuff off from the table- grimacing he gives a quick glance at the librarian who already is glaring at him so he throws her an awkward, yet polite smile before crunching down to gather the fallen items.

But what he comes across is the same chocolate bar glistening in the light and Mark can’t help but let out a disappointed exhalation as he gazes at it. He saw it coming but it still feels unpleasant nonetheless. 

When did Haechan even leave it?

Well at least he didn’t throw it away, that would be a waste so opening the bar he munches on the food, still sulking but at least he won’t be passing out from hunger any time soon. So at least there is one bright outcome.

Aimlessly he shuffles through his stuff but then from the corner of his eye he sees something unfamiliar, something that wasn’t there before.

So with a confused frown, he carefully takes a band-aid that was neatly put next to his book and for a moment he just gazes at it as he can’t comprehend why on earth Haechan would leave a band-aid behind but then realization quickly settles in as he glances at his finger, where the cut almost invisible as for now.

And Mark can’t stop the smile crawling on his lips.

He was right in the end.

Haechan isn’t that bad after all.

Mark gazes at his reflection in the window, using the glass as the mirror, and fixes his hair to soothe his nerves. The more he waits the more annoyed he gets by the fact that his friends probably stood him up so with a groan he turns his face towards the street again-occasionally he peeks around, waiting for his friends to magically appear.

Without warning the balance from his feet is unanticipatedly swat away and Mark almost goes tumbling down.

At first, when he looks around in irritation he sees no one-but looking down his eyes land on a small boy, looking no older than an elementary schooler, sitting in the fetal position and rubbing his now-scrapped knee-and by the way, his lips wobble, he’s clearly holding the tears back.

Mark gasps and immediately kneels, observing the kid worriedly. “Are you okay there?” He asks gently and the kid nods even if it’s followed by an audible sniff as the boy aggressively rubs his glassed eyes. “Hey, it’s okay, don’t cry, okay?” Mark carefully holds his hand out to help the child stand up who just stares at him with eyes that still shine with unshed tears but then carefully, unsurely he takes Mark’s hold.

“Do you want me to buy you something? Like aid or something? I can go! Pharmacy is very close here.” Mark’s voice quivers in panic as he watches the kid whose pan is apparent because one or two tears already managed to slip from his doll eyes.

Mark gasps and he kneels once more on the kid’s level, gazing at him with full of worry. “Hey, please don’t cry, okay? Where are your parents? I will take you to them.”

And the boy opens his mouth to answer but then his eyes land behind Mark’s shoulder and he sniffles softly but before Mark can look behind they’re already interrupted by a shout coming from the direction the kid’s looking “Hey! Hangyeol! Where are you?”

Mark sees a young boy rushing with full speed towards them, and Mark catches worry paint all over the boy’s face when he finally notices his friend.

He basically jumps on his friends who somehow found himself sitting on the ground again. “Are you okay? What happened?” He blabbers question after question, not letting the other one speak and Mark can’t help but chuckle both from his adorable antics and bewilderment-but the laughter quickly dies in his throat when the little kid glares at him not so politely.

So Mark clears his throat awkwardly and rubs the back of his head. “I will go buy an aid, just wait here, the pharmacy is across the street.” But the boy just shakes his head sternly and hugs his crying friend closer to him whilst still glaring at Mark.

“No need mister.” _Mister? he just turned 21._ “We can take care of ourselves.” He lifts his chin up arrogantly and helps his injured friend to stand up, and Mark can only stand there dumbly and watch as they walk away but he can still hear the boy nag at his friend-completely ignoring his quiet sobs as he’s speaking with full of annoyance. “Don’t talk to weirdos like him! Do you understand?” The shorter one nods, still drying the fresh tears from his face. And even if Mark probably should feel offended to be called names, he just smiles at the adorable friendship of theirs.

But then his head drops with a low, shaky exhale as the familiar shadows of grief manage to surround him and he knows he shouldn’t allow his emotions to take the best of him. He knows, he shouldn’t get sad over stupid things like this. He knows there will be no good if he lets himself dwell in the past but the lump knitting inside of his throat is telling him otherwise.

So he sighs and stares at his reflection in the glossed shop windows as if to make sure, moment by moment, that he continues to exist in a world where Donghyuck doesn’t belong.

“Do you think we can be friends forever?” Donghyuck mumbles through pout and dangles his short legs in the air as Minhyung lightly nudges him on the swing.

Minhyung absurdly stops at his track after hearing younger’s question and almost causes Donghyuck to fall over the ground. He gazes at him through knitted brows. “Of course! Why are you asking?”

And for a while Donghyuck doesn’t speak, he just gazes at the horizon as the sun sets behind the mountain, painting the sky in a warm peachy color. He huffs and bites down onto his bottom lip. “I don’t know. You’re going to school and probably meet guys cooler than me.” He mumbles, suddenly ashamed.

But Minhyung just snickers and lightly pinches him on his arm on which Donghyuck yelps and looks at his friend with a mix of perplexed and offended look. “You always will be my number one best friend.”

And Donghyuck’s whole face glimmers as he beams at him and then he puts his head on Minhyung’s shoulder, his eyes again dart back to the beautiful scenery in front of them.

Haechan scribbles through his notebook, pencil tapping impatiently against the desk as he goes through his test.

**In an ordinary sleep cycle, how many stages does an individual go through?**

4 stages.

He mumbles under his breath as he writes hurriedly, trying to finish before the food will be ready. He glances at the clock in panic, he has five more minutes left before his name will be called from the kitchen and he has only ten questions left. He’s sure he will finish his homework at the end of his shift.

**How long each sleep cycle is?**

He squeezes his eyes, trying to squeeze the information from his brain because he’s sure he heard the professor clear and right at the lecture, he just needs to remember it.

And the sound of the clock tickling becomes overwhelmingly apparent, making his nerves tingle in panic but also help him to focus on finishing his task in time.

Around 90-100 minutes long.

He almost shouts out loud as he jerks back from the desk, exhaling a heavy breath he was holding this whole time as the minute hand hits the clock.

“Haechan, the third table is ready!” YangYang calls out from the kitchen just on time and Haechan quickly fixing his brown apron rushes inside to take the order.

He slumps down onto the seat with a heavy pained pant and closes his eyes for a bit of rest and without opening them he sluggishly opens the cash register and puts few bucks in. “Hey, Taeyong can you make me some coffee, I really need one. I already paid for it.” He gently massages his temples to tone down the massive headache thudding inside his skull.

“Sure, what do you want?” The male asks and Haechan hears him shuffling around the polished floor.

“Americano, 4 shots, no sugar.” He answers languidly, his tongue barely twisting as he slurs words out and his eyes still closed as he speaks but they don’t feel any less sore or dry, still very much feeling stained from all the reading.

“Are you okay?” Suddenly his co-worker asks which makes him barely peek his eye as he throws him a questioning gaze, his brows raised high.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He asks back, his tone sloppy and out of breath.

The male shrugs as he works on Haechan’s coffee, swirling around the table. “I don’t know, you look paler than usual and you kind of look like you’re about to pass out, so that too.” He finishes it by sliding the drink towards him and Haechan barely reaches for it, his body melted with the chair.

A content sigh releases from his lips as he takes the first slip, immediately feeling the caffeine spreading through his veins, giving him a burst of energy even if he doesn’t have the strength to move his limbs, so it only processes his fingers to tremble even more furiously than before.

“M’ fine,” He says but his voice is shaky, unsteady but Taeyong doesn’t ask furthermore questions, just lets him by as he gazes out of the window-watching as the sun slowly settles in, splashing the dull city with warm auburn colors. 

And when the night begins to fall and the sky begins to glow as the city of lights begins to grow-from behind the window panes in rows and little golden squares and streets of a shining jet. The moon dressed in its whites, glows and gleams-its silver shine contrasts to many shades of colors shining through the night city.

And the light flickers inside the small shop where Haechan sits in front of the cashier, reading through his textbook-with watering, aching eyes and doubled vision as each word blurs with one another no matter making blood pulsing and headache growing. But he just blinks his bleary eyes, unwilling to move for fear of the distant headache intensifying.

But as the pain gets unbearable he promptly closes the book and drops his head back and closes his eyes for a short time, but the pounding headache and the burning in his throat only increases.

He exhales breathlessly, his whole body relaxing as he does so. He has only a few hours to kill before he can finally get some sleep he so willingly is fighting against right now.

Few more hours. He reminds himself. Few more hours and it will be over.

It’s not like he didn’t know how hard it would be, no, he knew that agreeing on the night shift would be both mentally and physically draining-but he was left with no other option.

“ _Are you sure about this?” The owner of the shop asked as she got a better view of the student in front who just gazed at her with bloodshot eyes that looked like they haven’t gotten enough sleep for years._

_But he nodded, even if his bones were shaking with overextension._

He quickly jumps into a sitting position when he hears the door open and he tries to put on the most customer-friendly appearance as much as his hollowed and drained expression can muster.

The only positive part of the night shift was that there weren’t many customers coming in, only occasional taxi and truck drivers coming inside for quick snacks and drinks-but sometimes students also checked inside as the shop was next to his dormitory which gifted him more time to his already short sleeping schedule-but it still was a relatively rare occasion.

So his eyes curiously follow the hunched figure going inside the snacking aisle wearing a huge black hoodie that swallows their whole body making it hard to make out their appearance-overall looking pretty sketchy in his subjective opinion and it leaves a bitter aftertaste in Haechan, he just hopes he won’t fall as a victim of armed robbery on his first week at the job.

So anxiously he waits for the person to return.

They do, in fact, come back rather quickly, holding a few packs of chips and cans of energetic drinks which probably aren’t the best option considered that it’s already almost three in the morning.

They wordlessly put the food onto the desk, their head dropped to the floor and hoodie dragged all over down, completely hiding their face but they seem as anxious as Haechan feels-they stumble from one foot to another and their hands impatiently move inside their pockets.

Haechan starts to scan the food, giving them occasional glances because as time goes the customer gets more fidgety, more agitated and only the beeping sound of the scanner can be heard in the empty shop.

“That would be ten dollars,” Haechan says and stares at the jittery incomer in front of him and his voice snaps them in whatever distress they were as they quickly whip their heads upwards, finally daring to show their face.

“Haechan?” Haechan lips form a small ‘o’ as it’s no other but Mark standing in front of him, gazing at him through his round glasses, he looks as much conflicted as Haechan feels but Haechan’s expression quickly falls into the normal stoic one as he puts the food into the bag, rather quickly. “I didn’t know you worked here,” Mark says despite being ignored and Haechan just offers him a small nod, looking anywhere but at the male in front of him.

He opens his palm, looking at Mark with raised brows because for a moment the boy is just gazing at him confused before his face perks up in realization and he searches for something inside his pockets. He gives him his credit card which Haechan quickly scans-wanting nothing but this awkward atmosphere to fade into the air.

Mark takes his bag and gives him a shy, yet polite smile. “See you around then.” He adds before waving weakly and for a second Haechan’s eyes linger on the band-aid wrapped around Mark’s ring finger but then he just nods and averts his gaze in the opposite direction.

And only when he hears the door close he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding the whole time. For a moment he just dazes blankly into space before straightening his hair and collecting his thoughts, he goes back to reading.

Later when the sun has just started to arise onto the horizon Haechan walks through the empty street with sluggish, slow steps, dragging his whole body forward-his legs bend and buckle, feeling weightless as his head sways side to side, his eyes close to shutting down but he slaps his face once, twice, before holding his cheeks for a second.

“I can do this.” He mumbles drowsy. “I will do this.” And inhaling he forces himself to continue to walk in the hazy dawn.

“I’m home.” He whispers to no one as he walks inside his cold and empty apartment, looking exactly the way he left it-messy, filthy, chilly, and lonely.

With a low grunt he collapses onto his bed, his limbs too sore to even try to change his clothes. Haechan’s cheek is smashed against the pillow as he cheeks his alarm, realizing that he has only 3 hours before he has to wake up-he screams mentally but only comes off as a pained groan as he plants his whole face into the pillow-another scream is muffled through the fabric.

Before he can stop himself he thinks of other possible ways to save money-he could change into only earing ready meals, that would save gas money and he doesn’t waste light anyways as he’s not even at home most of the times…

But the more he overthinks the more his head pains him so with a groan he touches the back of his head that never has stopped throbbing the whole day and forces his eyes shut.

And the last thing he registers is light tunes coming from the next door as the soft acoustic sounds lull him into needed sleep. 

Mark watches the raindrops slide down on the window as his body bounces, hitting his head lightly on the glass, he sighs as he closes his eyes, failing to concentrate on the music playing in his earphones. He quietly sits on the bus watching the world move at an unstoppable speed. 

The conversation from before replying in his brain.

“I just miss my son.” His mom croaked through broken voice, squeezing Mark’s heart till it busted, drenched from the blood.

“I'm sorry, I-“ He groaned, rubbing his temple as he continued to listen to his mom's uneven breathing through the end of the globe.

“I just want to see you in person Mark, it’s been years.” She whispered, failing to tone down her sniffles and forcing Mark to listen to his mom’s weak sobs. “Can’t you come this one year? It’s been fifteen years Mark, no one is blaming-"

“I can’t mom! I-I just can’t.” Mark’s voice breaks terribly in the end as it becomes harder to breathe.

Mark can’t go back there, not now and not after another fifteen years. 

Before the Lees house stays empty, with a missing soul inside he doesn’t have the heart to go back. He can’t sit and gaze at the empty room from his window, foolishly wait for the light to turn on in Donghyuck’s room and his head to pop out in the night-just like good old times when he couldn’t sleep so he would just to talk to Mark about nothing, with his eyes reflecting the stars above, shining brighter than any of them. 

And Mark is a coward, he’s not courageous enough to face Ms. Lee either.

“I'm sorry mom but I can’t come back.” He whispers, rubbing his face furiously feeling the dread crawling back to him.

Mark inhales, squeezing his eyes he can feel the headache coming, he lightly bumps his head on the window, suddenly everything feels too much, he feels caged back into the prison of his mind.

The images of Auntie Lee flood back to him like a storm, demolishing on its way any improvement he had made these past years, dragging him back to zero. Like always.

He misses his mom too, a lot, he misses her to death but how can he go back when he knows meeting with auntie will be unavoidable? How can he face a woman he had taken everything from her? Made her stand in the rain in front of the police station every day with that damned sign ‘Please help me find my son' with a picture of Donghyuck grinning like a happy soul he was. He can’t, it’s impossible for him to.

He doesn’t know if her hatred towards him died down throughout these years either or if she still blames him, or will she also lie to his face and tell him that it wasn’t his fault? that it was just an accident which a kid couldn’t prevent. 

He hopes she will never forgive him because he doesn’t deserve to be forgiven, he doesn’t deserve all the help he received all of these years.

With heavy steps he drags himself inside the campus, not having any motivation to do- well anything, to deal with anyone. Today, the only thing he wants is to lie in his bed and never leave it again, he’s too much of a coward to face the reality.

In the end, Mark is always running away, turning his back to harsh reality.

And grief is such a strange thing. Sometimes it seems to be gone entirely, but then one smell or sound or memory and it's as if it was waiting there, in the shadows, until you noticed it following you. And when you finally notice it lurking in the corners you’re dragged back to the ocean of tears, some days successfully swimming to the shore and the other days drowning in the depths of pure darkness as you feel your lungs fill with regrets and guilt.

And Mark senses that today’s later but he knows the next day he will wake up again, maybe with a dried, tear-stained face but he still will open his eyes as a fresh tear or two will fall out from his sore eyes, he will force himself to stand up, to wash himself up, to dress and continue floating on the streets like a lost ghost, trapped in between the worlds.

But until now the only thing he can do is to wait, to surrender, the more he will fight the tighter the trap will shove its daggers in his flesh, the pain will just get stronger, unbearable so he continues to breathe in a reminder that he’s still alive, that he still exists and that maybe the ghost someday will find his home again.

He slumps down onto his seat not giving any attention to anyone around him, settling down his eyes immediately find themselves out of the window, counting the raindrops.

But then from the corner of his eyes, he sees familiar purple locks glow in the morning sunshine, shining in a light, warm pink giving the color to the blanched room and sticking out with the way his skin glows in honey, golden in rays of sunlight.

And so Mark leans his head into his arms to get a better view of the male and observes the way his long eyelashes bat on the heavy bags underneath, giving him a look both peaceful and fatigued.

Mark wants to know more about him, he’s profoundly enchanted by the flowing complexity in him. He wants to learn about every dark corner of his, wants to view the perfection to show imperfections and what hides beneath the stoic mask of Haechan’s.

He doesn’t know when only by just looking at the male Mark started to correlate it with the velvety feeling of content-but the longer he gazes at the boy the more irenic he feels.

“Should we do DNA testing just to be sure?” Her voice is gentle but filled with tentativeness and Haechan is no fool, he senses she said that only to be polite. They both know there will be no tests needed, it’s meaningless.

“I don’t think I am the one you’re searching for.” Haechan hushes above the whisper, his voice stained and he hangs his head low, eyes shaking, not daring to look up from the floor and watch disappointment wash over her face.

She’s such a lovely woman, he thinks, she doesn’t deserve to go through pain like this. _Only if she was his mom._

But sadly life doesn’t work that way, it always goes against Haechan no matter how many more times it tears him down-it’s never enough, it wants more tears, more blood, and more agony. Like a stab wound-deep enough to bleed but not enough to kill.

And Haechan wants to cry so bad, his abused lip is close to being slashed in two as his teeth continuously gnash on the flesh to somehow stop tears from flowing-because if he will let his emotions pour, he’s sure he won’t be able to stop and he knows he has no right to break down in front of a woman who is suffering from her loss as much as Haechan does.

So he squeezes his eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling of wetness of his sore eyes, and tries to calm himself down with a shaky intake of breaths.

The voices inside of him raging, roaring him to leave as soon as possible because tears are dangerously close to spilling.

The moment he steps outside, he rushes towards nearby allay, towards any secluded area, safe from judging eyes.

He feels sick, both physically and the mentally-his head is spinning, blurring the entire world together, making his head throb in unexplainable pain, fogging his mind and senses.

He throws his head down and gags on nothing but saliva as nothing leaves his empty stomach, he coughs, choking on a dry throat, struggling to breathe, and after a few more pathetic barfs he lets his body collapse on the ground. His chest heaves with each intake of breath he wheezes and bumps the back of his head on the concrete wall.

For a long moment, he just stares blankly into space, watches as his whole world falls apart and he’s powerless to prevent it-but it’s okay, he doesn’t pay attention to the world ending, it has ended for him many times and began again in the morning. But then his shoulder shake, and his body trembles as the tears that crash against his ribcage, demand to be freed and it takes one breathe for the walls built inside of him to collapse.

His whole body shakes with each silent sob as he squeezes his eyes and allows tears flow.

Truth to be told Haechan is tired, _so tired_ crawling back home, beaten and defeated but having no one there to greet him, ask him how his day went, console him on a bad day, make him homemade food, and shower with love.

And he longs for it, each and every broken piece of his heart is starving for it but he’s left in a hungry in silence.

He feels selfish and greedy for wanting to be loved, for his existence to matter for even a single person in this vast universe-but he aches for it so bad that it drives him insane, leaving him pleading and screaming in the void where no one will come to his rescue. Because who is Haechan? He is a nobody. A boy with no parents and no real name-nothing about him even feels real slightest, nothing about his life feels raw and valid.

His head buried into his knees, he continues to wail silently. And the need to call out to his mom is suffocating, but he doesn’t have one-no matter how many times he cried for her, she never came, never held the crying kid into her arms, she left him to wail alone.

Do his parents even want him to be found?

He has wondered about it a lot, has spent many sleepless nights thinking about it.

Is he the aloof for trying to search for someone through fires of hell who isn’t waiting at the finish line? 

But he has to know, he has to ask-Why? Why him? Why was he not good enough? Why didn’t he deserve to be loved? What did he sin so terrible that has earned him this ever-lasting anguish?

Even if they hate him, even if they will curse him out, spit on his face, and beat him to death-he needs to know. He's so tired of doing nothing but searching and finding nothing at the end.

Because he needs his closure, needs to finally be able to close this torn and ripe book of his life which is filled with pages covered in nothing but blood and tears.

And so here he is, a bundle of past and future dreams-left alone there with lanterns, in his own mind, with no map and no road. And he dreams, no, desires to be cured of a craving for something he cannot find and the shame of never finding it.

He painfully rubs palms against his sore eyes, just to feel something, just to remind himself that it’s not a nightmare, that once he wakes up he won't find himself in the arms of his loved ones.

Homesick.

And not sure where home is.

He gazes sways his body on the swing as he blankly gazes at the horizon as the lights swirl of pink and orange-fading to blue and purple.

He feels nothing, thinks about nothing, he’s mind is just a blank paper waiting to be filled with more words full of despair.

He stays on the empty playground for a bit longer because the knowledge of stepping inside the soulless house brings nothing but dread to him.

So he lets himself rest from the upcoming whiplash of heavy, sour emotions that will weigh him further down.

He closes his eyes and wonders and imagines his past-who he was or what kind of person he was. What’s his name? How old is he? What he dreamt as a kid, what was his favorite food growing up-he wants to know it all, wants all of his memories back and he will go through the biggest flames of hell to bring them back-even if his lanterns flicker, he will find his way.

But out of a sudden, he hears something- a weak, scared meow coming from the playground slide. So Haechan rubs his swollen eyes, trying to see through his bleary vision and unsure he lifts his body from the swing and with shaky legs follows the desperate screeches.

What he finds is a box, hidden beneath the slide-‘please take care of me' it reads and when he peeks inside he sees a kitten, small, vulnerable-its tiny body shaking in cold, fur drenched in mud as it continues to cry.

“They left you too?” Haechan asks through a bitter, forced smile as he leans closer, scaring the poor animal more. “They didn’t want to take care of you. How selfish of them, right?” He gently takes up the box, observing the adorable kitten.

He knows that it’s a bad idea, he knows he can’t bring a cat to the dorm but he still goes against it-as if to spite his parents, to prove to them he can take care, and love someone-unlike them.

“Don’t worry, I'm going to take good care of you.” He smiles as the kitten gazes at him, round green eyes watching him curiously. “I'll be your family.”

Mark feels like drying as he stumbles upon the stairs, his limbs feel rock hard, too heavy to move. Today’s been especially stressful, the exams that were coming were slowly taking its toll on him. The thought of his bed waiting for him was strangely alluring.

“I'm going to feed you so well.” He hears the familiar high pitched voice, making him stop in his tracks. “What should I feed you, tuna maybe?” Which is followed by a faint meow. “Aren’t you adorable?” He hears Haechan coo, giggles softly and the sound makes Mark freeze at his place, too dumbfounded to be witnessing such a lovely and soft sound leave the male’s lips.

Soon the said person shows up in his vision, holding what looks like a dirty box. Haechan doesn’t notice him at first, too enticed by whatever is inside the box-Mark understands that it’s a cat when he hears yet another sound of high meowing.

“Is it a cat?” Mark can’t help but exclaim excited and rush towards Haechan, startling him in the process. “Oh my god, it’s so cute!” He yells overly enthusiastic as Haechan eyes him in surprise, taken aback by the sudden outburst. “Can I hold it?” Mark looks at him, his eyes wide, twinkling with happiness making Haechan grimace.

“Stop screaming! The landowner can’t know!” He hisses, looking around, checking the front clear before glaring at the boy again who just beams apologetically. Haechan sighs, knowing that Mark won’t leave him alone so easily, he nods, landing him the box as the kitty watches both of them curiously.

“Oh my god.” Mark whisper-yells and bounces like an overjoyed kid and Haechan can only stand there with crossed arms and watch.“I'm going to die, it’s so fucking cute!” And the way he says it sounds a bit too aggressive, threatening even.

To their dismay, they hear the sound of short steps coming down from the stairs and they share equally panicked looks for a second before they are already bolting without a second thought and Haechan doesn’t think ahead when he throws himself and Mark inside his house.

They stay glued to the door for a while, their chest heaving with each breath as they calm the adrenaline pumping inside their veins.

With a stretched exhale Haechan opens his eyes, immediately checking the kitten, which thankfully sits inside the box safe and unharmed, looking at him more confused than scared.

“So...” Mark clears his throat, making his presence known, and Haechan eyes him, just realizing that he had let Mark inside.

Mark, a stranger, inside his house. 

And his eyes wide comically wide as he looks around his apartment, just to find it in its natural state-messy and filthy. “Where should I put it?” But Mark sounds unbothered when he asks while still holding onto the box as his dear life.

But Haechan doesn’t answer, he eyes his place for a moment, observes papers splattered around, empty boxes of noodles thrown in every corner of the room, dirty clothes on the floor-Haechan face pinches in disgust but hears a soft chuckle coming from the side.

“I mean we are dudes living alone so don’t worry about it.” He glances at Mark who is doing a terrible job of being subtle on checking his house.

The dorm is built the same, it’s no different from Mark’s own but he still can’t help but be curious.

Haechan sighs, too tired to argue. “Put it on the table.” Which itself is a hard task because the said table is filled with unfinished food but Mark being as polite as ever just nods, carefully moving the dishes out of his way and placing the box.

But as he does so from the corner of his eye Mark sees a paper, a printed picture of a kid so he frowns softly, focusing on it more.

And when his eyes read ‘missing kid’ above, he feels his blood go cold and his heart skip a beat or two before beating in full rage. And he hears nothing but his frantic heartbeat thudding inside his skull as the images of posters of Donghyuck, plastered everywhere for his eyes reach- come rushing to his brain, making his breath hitch.

And it doesn’t go unnoticed by Haechan either, he swiftly moves in his way, covering the papers with his body-full of shame. He bites down onto his lip as he tries to gather all of the papers, feeling his blood boil in mortification.

They stand there like this for a while, both lost in their worries before a displeased meow snaps them out of their thoughts.

And they just stare at each other for a moment, not comprehending the occurred before Mark finally scoots his nerves down and clearing his throat, he dares to speak.“ I think the kitten is hungry.” He voices, looking at anything but Haechan and Haechan doesn’t respond for a moment before he jolts, finally registering his words, and rushes towards the box. Haechan gazes at the cat, his finger gently patting its soft fur and with a sigh, he murmurs. “I have milk.”

“No!” Suddenly Mark yells, making Haechan flinch as he glances at the now embarrassed boy with wide surprised eyes. “I mean, milk is bad for cats, they can’t digest it,” Mark says timidly, shameful about screaming.

Haechan’s brow rise, genuinely surprised but says nothing and nods, it seems that Mark has more knowledge in cats than him so he decides to trust the boy. “I have a can of tuna?” He tries again, unsure, waiting for Mark’s approval who just sighs and walks towards him.

“Do you have bread? You can soften it in the water, it will be more suitable.” Haechan dazes at him dumbly before yet again he nods and when Mark’s lips stretch into a bright grin Haechan ignores the uncomfortable tug on his heart-as if telling him something. When he doesn’t move from his place, Mark perks his brows up and tilts his head to the side, taking the uncertain state of the boy so he murmurs carefully. “Or…I could do that?”

Mark does his job rather quickly, proving Haechan’s assumptions right about him having more knowledge.

The moment Mark puts down the bowl the kitten sprints, munching on food and he can only watch it with a fond smile.

After giving the kitten one last gentle pat, Mark looks at Haechan, not speaking for a moment, only his black eyes glisten with unsaid words. “Anyways, I probably should get going, sorry for coming in uninvited.” His lips quirk, but they don’t quite reach his eyes.

He turns around painfully slowly, something is dragging him back, begging him to stay- even if Mark doesn’t need to be asked-he wants to stay.

Haechan flinches, his arm hangs in the air, almost touching Mark and he bites his lip as the feeling of uncertainty fills him in. His body is pushing him towards Mark, swatting the balance from his legs just to force a step out of him.

And maybe next morning he will blame it on how terribly, and utterly lonely he feels at this moment, how small and vulnerable, ready to break. And how much terrified he is to be left alone with his thoughts, so before he can stop he yelps weakly. “Do you want a cup of tea?” He grimaces at his poor attempt of an excuse and he can only hope that Mark won’t be able to see through his bloodshot eyes his true intentions.

Mark whips around, standing there wordlessly, only blinking at him with his perplexed, glimmering eyes. And Haechan fidgets nervously, terrified with the fact that he probably made a fool of himself and Mark will laugh at his face, mocking him for even daring to think that he wanted to stay in Haechan’s presence and then-

But Mark’s face just breaks into a huge, sincere beam, “Sure! Why not?” he chirps enthusiastically, not trying to hide his excitement.

“So what are you going to name her?” Mark asks as he blows the hot tea. He takes the first slip, still gazing at Haechan. His tongue burns but he doesn’t show it on his face.

“I didn’t think about it yet,” Haechan answers truthfully, looking down at his feet, now deep into the thoughts.

“What about sunny?” Haechan peeks at Mark confused, his brows knitted and a small pout forming on his lips.”You know, because of your name? Like it would be matching and stuff, I mean that would be cute?” Mark rambles, feeling embarrassed out of a sudden and the blush only darkens on his cheeks as Haechan continues to stare at him weirdly, without mustering a word. “You know full sun and stuff...” Mark answers rather intelligently but as he gets a closer look at the confused boy, he quickly realizes that Haechan probably is hearing that for the first time. “Haechan in Korean means full sun.”

And Mark’s assumptions are proven right when Haechan’s eyes wide in surprise and he just gawks at him for a moment before he nods, his expression back to emotionless.

“I guess sunny will do then.” He murmurs, playing his fingers through the soft fur of Sunny’s, who contently sleeps on his lap. “How do you have so much knowledge in cats anyways?” He asks more to himself, accidentally voicing his thoughts out loud.

“I was taking care of a stray cat as a kid.” Haechan notices Mark smile fondly at the memory so he just nods in understanding.

Most of their conversations go like this- Mark talking like a broken record, and Haechan nodding along, occasionally managing to blurt out a few words.

But it’s the most Mark talked to the male throughout three years knowing and admiring him-so Mark takes it as a win.

“What was its name?” Haechan brings his face up, looking genuinely interested.

Mark flinches, uncomfortable feeling knotting inside of him as he bites down on his bottom lip, chewing in comfort. “Hyuck, his name was Hyuck.” He whispers, almost inaudible and Haechan may be timid around him but he still has the eyes of the hawk, immediately sensing the heavy aura creeping in the room. He frowns at the distressed form of the raven-haired male.

Mark takes his eyes from the floor only to look down at his watch. The knitted brows, shaky eyes and clasped lips-all of his body language screams nervousness and agitation and Haechan doesn’t know what he did wrong this time.

“Look at the time, I probably should get going." Mark declares, his voice uneven and even when he smiles at Haechan it looks painfully forced. “Thanks for the tea.” Mark smiles lopsided, looking nothing like his usual genuine, bright one, and he slowly walks towards the door but turns the last time only to find Haechan already staring at him. “See you next time?” He asks, unsure, it almost sounds like begging. Pleading for Haechan to give him a chance.

But Haechan doesn’t say anything, he just nods and averts his gaze, his eyes concentrating on the pet on his lap instead-he changes back to his normal self once more. Pushing Mark back after the first-ever step.

So Mark shakes his head and walks outside, again left wondering the meanings behind the actions of Haechan. He bumps his head back on the wall when he closes the door behind-his lips leaving a heavy, tired sigh. 

Mark stands in front of the mirror, eyes fixated on his reflection, he watches his every move as he gently takes a finger to his lips, stretching the skin upwards, forcing himself to smile. And he stares at himself convincing himself that if he will look longer, he will learn to force a smile more naturally. Because that’s how things should be-Mark acting as if everything is alright because it’s the only way he won’t troublesome anyone.

He gives a quick glance to his phone that is lying on the floor and he knows he can call Jaemin, or Jeno, or even his mom. He knows they will understand, they will let him cry but he has bothered them enough-they don’t deserve to be forever chained to someone like Mark.

But then his eyes linger longer on the bottle of pills that is thrown inside the bim but ruffling his hair furiously he shakes his head with a groan and a shaky exhale he slides down on the floor, blankly staring into space as the hurricane of thoughts comes crashing to him.

How foolish of him to be still haunted by memories that linger like a softly uttered curse, trapping his mind and feelings by longings.

And how weak of him to crumble down by a mere reminisce of the boy, the boy he killed.

So he hates himself for crying, he hates that his eyes haven’t dried yet, still pour more tears even after fifteen years-because it’s his fault, he got himself into this situation, so he doesn’t have any right to cry.

But grief is a strange thing, it’s like a shadow of no real physical form, dark, hidden, powerful, unable to be seen or touched. And it wanders around, through walls and doors, to the streets and corners. It travels with him, keeps a watch, and tap on his deeds, compiling all of his wrongdoings. And it awaits for the perfect moment to make him pay for his brutalities. But Mark would add that grief is also like the ocean, it comes on waves ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it’s overwhelming. All he can do is learn to sail an uncharted sea in an endless night.

At first, Mark was apprehensive of grief as it brought nothing but the agony in his life but then gradually-considering that he had spent every second of his existence with it-he had learned that grief is really just love, all the love you want to give but cannot, just love with no place to go. There is a particular kind of suffering to be experienced when you love someone greater than yourself and so all of that unspent love fills every corner of his body till each and every atom of his before it cannot be fit and so it pours out like a waterfall, like blood from an unstitched wound.

He misses him in ways that not even words can understand-Donghyuck may be gone, but his presence, it lingers here still. He’s Mark’s walking thought, his sweet dream, and everything in between. And Mark feels him everywhere; he looks for him in everything. Mark finds him in sad songs, the sound of rain, sunsets, and all the small things. Donghyuck is everywhere like the fog has set in the atmosphere unexpectedly and it leaves him gasping for air that simply is not there. It is inescapable and Mark is trapped in this room full of smoke and he fears that unlike Donghyuck, the fog will stay forever.

And Mark’s unsure which pain is the worse-the shock of what happened or the ache for what never will. It’s not the endings that will haunt you-but space where they should lay the things that simply faded without one final wave goodbye, like a book with torn out pages.

And Mark feels like they are at the end of their book and he’s just refusing to close it-the day he left, Mark saved him a place inside his memories and he replays them often as he thinks of Donghyuck and himself. Whenever he misses him, he simply will rewind these times of them together and he’ll watch them in his mind. His memory became a home for him. So whenever his mind wanders, it always finds its way back to him.

Mark’s dreams were lost inside the nights they never spent together. So let them meet at midnight in the forest of his dreams. They’ll make a fire and count the stars that shimmer above the trees.

_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine_

The soft tune fills Haechan’s senses, relaxing his whole body and soul down as the voice intoxicates his sensations, lulling him towards cloud nine. Never in his life, he felt so delightful-as if all the weight from his shoulders had been lifted, the heaviness inside of his wounded soul carried with the wind, leaving his body feeling as light as a feather as he’s swept by the gentle crooning.

_You make me happy when skies are gray_

And as he flutters his eyes he recognizes the familiar touch of the beams of sunlight, stinging his skin softly, coloring his cheeks in deep rose- He becomes aware of the unidentifiable aroma of woods, moisture-laden air, the soggy smell of grass and wildflowers.

He stretches his arms as he completely becomes one with the field and after staying in that position for few more seconds he finally forces himself to sit up and look around the empty forest in a search of the velvety sound of the melody.

He sees two kids leaning against the age-old oak, their backs turned to him but Haechan quickly recognizes them. Minhyung is the one holding the guitar, which too big for his smaller body but he continues to sing to younger him who has placed his head onto his shoulder.

_You'll never know dear, how much I love you_

Suddenly Minhyung stops singing and glances at his friend oddly nervous and more Haechan observes the more he notices the blush bloom on the child’s cheeks, darkening the more he stares at little Haechan who still is completely oblivious to the tender looks he’s getting, gazing somewhere in the distance.

But then he looks at him with his big doe eyes full of curiosity as to why the other one stopped singing so the unnamed kid yelps, clearing his throat he touches the instrument again.

_Please don't take my sunshine away_

And to Haechan’s utter bewilderment the kid turns his face back to him as he sings the last sentence- his eyes begging, pleading for something Haechan has no place knowing.

He notices his black orbs glisten, fill up with unshed tears. “Please don’t leave me again.” He whispers with a stained, broken voice which quickly chokes down by a dry sob and Haechan is left wondering the meaning behind his plea but he was not given enough time to understand because to his utter bewilderment his young-self turns his face towards him with visible anger painter all over as he scowls at him.

Haechan frowns as his eyes never leave the kid’s but suddenly drop of wetness makes his eyes flutter. When he looks up his vision gets bleary as the rain starts to pour down on the ground out of a sudden.

Darkness has fallen in, making him blindly lose sight as everything goes black outside, nothing gray, nothing white-not a single ray of light to find onto before baby-blue sky above.

Hesitatingly Haechan closes his eyes, trying to ignore his dammed mind and he prays that when he opens his eyes everything will turn back to normal but when he blinks he sees nothing but a black sky cover, cloudy night-no stars, no moon. The air hangs heavy-not even a slight breeze. The birds have fallen asleep on the high wire-no sound is heard in the meadow.

As if life is momentary put on hold, it's as if nature is holding its breath.

The silence is fading in and chaos rises inside of Haechan. Doubt and losses revisit and fear rise inside of him. When the memories start to closing in, the terror surrounds and slowly the last scrap of courage dies, losing to fight against despair.

So he turns his head in a search of children, in a search for answers but there are long gone, vanished in the air leaving Haechan remained and lost in oblivion in the cool dark night and icy rain, that chills him to the very marrow.

He looks around for help even if there is no clear view for miles as the fog quietly settles in, embracing nature in a misty hug. And it’s so cold, so cold within, not a bit of warmth anywhere. He can only pray that the dawn will arise soon but until now he has to survive the night.

Suddenly a faint shimmer breaks into the blanket of darkness, shining ever so slightly but enough to be seen. So Haechan gawks, trying to get a better view and soon he notices that it’s a one, lonely firefly marching towards him. And so he waits.

The firefly flutters weakly, the light fading, flickering away with each bat of a wing but it somehow manages to land gently right onto his palm. So he stares at the fly, his eyes reflecting the frail shimmer, making them glimmer in the dusk.

But then the fly suddenly waggles and swiftly fleets inside the woods, shining enough to get a sight of mighty trees around. 

So Haechan doesn’t think twice as he strides into the blackness-this light guides him more surely than the light of noonday, towards the place where _he_ is awaiting him.

He quickens his steps as he chases the firefly-yet he’s careful to avoid possible injuries but he’s also frightened to lose the last source of the light in this dismal forest.

Moving the dry branches out of his way he comes with a sight he surely didn’t see coming, freezing him at a place. 

A door, simple wooden door is purposefully placed in the center of the lifeless field.

Haechan, confused, with timid steps he walks towards the wooden frame. He circles around it but finds nothing behind and yet the door stands still.

The firefly lands gracefully onto the handle, twinkling and flickering, gesturing him something.

He inhales shakily as the feeling of dread finds its way inside of him and he senses that whatever awaits him behind the door, it’s unlikely to be pleasant.

Still, with trembling fingers, he grips onto the handle but lets few seconds pass by as he squeezes his eyes shut and listens to his raging heartbeat that hammers inside of his head.

Inhaling heavily he opens the door and allows darkness to consume him as a whole.

At first, it’s nothing but the void of nothingness. Blindly he looks around in the hope to see something, anything. But sees nothing but blackness surrounding him but in the distance he catches the firefly still glimmering faintly, giving him somewhat sense of comfort.

But then his breath hitches as fireflies start to appear from every corner, twinkling like stars on the night sky and one by one, small details of his whereabouts come to his vision.

He blinks confused as he finds himself in an empty room. He doesn’t know this place, like the boy buried in this flesh of his. But he knows that he should remember the room where he’s standing-but no memories come rushing towards him.

So he lets himself wander around in a hope that he will find something that will help him to remember.

The house seems old, snug with the wisdom of happiness, hope, and love within its cracked walls where winds whistle through it, and rains flood the floor.

He brushes the dust from the old portrait that is hanging on the wall-yes, it’s a picture of him, it’s the same face-but why does he look at him with such a look of hate?

From the distance, he can hear the barking of those old hound-dogs as approaching oxen to pull their heavy load. And it sounds all way too familiar to his ears-it’s the sound they got used to hearing.

Haechan’s palm lingers where the walls are finger-marked with colorful dried paint. The fingertips are much smaller, easily hidden beneath the pad of his fingers. A lump comes rising in his throat and his breathing gets unsteady. 

The whole wall is covered with ruined, wrinkled papers that are scrawled with pencil marks. He must have treasured them for years. The ugly, yet childlike doodles-drawings of him and Minhyung and he can only guess others are scribbles of their families.

At the very corner of the wall, he sees a calendar hanging down, so curiously he reads 2005 written in big numbers, and underneath it reads August where nine days are already crossed in red marker. 

And he can feel his eyes well up with tears the more he looks at the date, at the drawings. The more he observes the room- The stairways that show signs of wear, the glorious sign to him of happy little feet, steps where joy had raced, and love and laughter too.

This old house holds his memories that never will be forgotten. This old house holds his laughter that will echo forever. This old house holds his tears that will never wash away. This old house holds thoughts of his childhood and the love of my family. This old house holds all that he’s behind a closed door that exists no more.

And so as he continues to stand glued one the same place, the home grew sweeter and brighter-things looked hearty and happy then.

With no reminisce of the home he can only guess that a deal has happened to make this old house dear. There are precious things in this old house that never can be taken away. All his hoys were cradled here-here he lived his best. So he shall call it his and he knows, he will never have a better home.

But suddenly a sweet aroma wafted up into the air-familiar smell of homemade biscuits made with love and care-making Haechan alert from his thoughts.

When he looks around in a search of the scent he sees a short hallway he hasn’t noticed before so he timidly walks towards the next room-and the wooden floor cracks beneath his feet with each step he makes, making him more anxious.

He peeks inside the room and quickly realizes that it’s supposed to be a kitchen-worn and old just like the house, but still cozy, filled with familiarity and warmth.

He notices two women sitting in front of the table; drinking tea in silence-only a dim, weak lamp placed onto the table is there to illuminate the room, making it harder for Haechan to make out their faces.

“It’s getting late, maybe we should check up on them?” One of them speaks, gently placing the cup on the desk and gazes at her worriedly.

“I’m sure they’re fine, older kids always take care of these little monsters.” She chuckles, gently patting the concerned one by her shoulder.

“But it’s already past 8, they’re never late, you know that.”

“Oh come on, you know my Donghyuck always listens to Minhyung and Ming would never do anything reckless.” She deadpans and pours more tea into her cup. “So stop worrying you old had, wrinkles are already showing.”

But the woman doesn’t seem convinced but she doesn’t say anything for a moment, just dazing blankly out of the window where the darkness has fallen outside, then she sighs heavily and leans further back onto the chair. “But still…It’s getting late. Let’s find them, I have a bad feeling about it.”

“If they won’t show up in 10 minutes then let’s go and find them. Why are you so antsy anyway? They always come around this time.” But when she just exhales heavily in response the woman places the cup on the table with a loud thud. “Okay, let me finish the tea and then we can go.”

Finally, the lady smiles but it doesn’t bring ease to Haechan’s heart, he feels anxious out of a sudden, awaiting the dread. He worriedly looks at the clock that says fifteen minutes of nine but as soon as the minute hand moves, the clock suddenly stops working.

He frowns as the uncomfortable feeling just gets stronger, heavier to bear and when he looks at the women sitting in front of him they also have frozen in a movement, not moving even slightly, not even breathing.

He feels his heartbeat jump, quicken and suddenly the clock starts to run fast, time-lapse going with so much speed that his eyes can’t even follow-only sounds of rapid tickling rings into his eyes, hammering into his head as he gazes at the clock with wide eyes and feels sweat gathering in the corners of his temples.

And then it absurdly stops at fifteen minutes before midnight. Too dumbfounded by the encounter he finds himself frozen in a place, dumbly gawking at the wall where the clock has started to work normally again.

But before he can comprehend the occurred a sudden white light flashes, blinding him momentarily, stinging his eyes and making them squeeze tight in pain. 

When he blinks his eyes open he finds himself in the same place. But it feels different. He can’t breathe, the smell is horrible, and nor he can see, once again he found himself in total darkness.

The old house now stands abandoned, forgotten, and all alone- where life once used to thrive. The old picket fence is broken. The roof opens to the sky. The well-trodden path to the doorway is overgrown with the passing of time.

In the garden where once as kids they would play-only a rotting rope is still hanging from the old Oak tree. The chimney that served to cook the food and ward off the winter chill, it has toppled over and is half-way down the hill. A rusty pump is still standing; and rusty a tin cup's hanging still, how many years has it been since it was pumped and someone drank their fill? The tin cup has a hole and the spiders and cobwebs now block the water spout.

And the room which once echoed of laughter-now lay silent forlorn and bare. Boarded up windows lock in the past-where now only ghosts meet to confer.

Empty rooms stubbornly cling to the memories of childhood they refuse to reveal. Locked inside are his childhood dreams.

But he still can hear the kids laughing, as they go about their play, the mother is singing, as she toils away.

This ole house once knew his children. This ole house was home and comfort as they fought the storms of life. This old house once rang with laughter and heard many shouts. But now he trembles in the darkness when the lightning walks about. No one is in need of this house no longer.

This is not where he used to live-his old house was beautiful, it had every color.

He feels dread dwell inside of his lungs the more he observes the old, torn house he used to call his own but then a familiar deep voice awakens his senses. “Did you finally come back?” He looks up and finds Mark sitting on the table in front of him, carelessly swinging his legs back and forth.

“What, what is going on?” Haechan croaks in a mix of yell and a desperate cry but Mark doesn’t seem affected, he just gazes at him wordlessly.

“You still don’t understand, don’t you?” He tilts his head to the side and jumps from the desk and moves unhurriedly towards him. “You told me to wait, so I’ve waited. You told me to be strong, so I did.” He says sternly, coldly even but then he sits on the floor next to him. “I did everything you asked me to…” Mark’s eyes drop on his hand that is still clutched tightly into a fist and with a gentle touch, he starts to play with Haechan’s fingers, scooting the tension away. “But we don’t have much time left.” He murmurs, still aimlessly tracing with his delicate fingers onto Haechan’s skin.

“What, what’s that supposed to mean?” Haechan croaks when he finally forces his eyes off from their intertwined hands.

Mark’s fingers freeze for a moment before he sighs and unclasps their grasps, leaving Haechan feeling cold once more from lack of affection. “I’m, I’m not strong Haechan…” He says breathy, his voice wavering. “I’m weak and I’m a coward,” Mark mumbles under his breath, biting onto his lip as he tries to hold the tears that hold so much despair.

Haechan shuffles uncomfortably on his seat and angling his head to get a better view of the male, to try to read the unreadable expression he’s wearing. “But you, you promised me, don’t-“His voice breaks as the lump just tightens around his throat, making it hard to breathe. “Don’t you dare to break the promise too.” He hushes out of breath, almost inaudible, almost as if he’s afraid to voice his thoughts out.

“Only if I can able to be with you again but, but It’s, it’s hard…It’s so hard without you.” Mark murmurs sorrowfully and spent. “To be beside you, just once more.” His eyes glimmer with tears so he quickly wipes them away before they can fall and take him crumbling with them. “God, that would be enough.” He exhales shakily, his body starting under the weight of sorrow. “You, now it’s up, up to you how this story will end.” He adds and only then he dares to look at the younger with glassed, grief-stricken eyes that hold so many untold stories in a hushed secret.

“Why me?” Haechan utters throatily, sinking deeper into the floor as he gazes at the male with vexed eyes. “I, I can’t Mark, it’s, it’s hard for me to, to…” His voice wavers at the end, he gulps, his throat dry.

“Because you have to make a choice.” Mark drops his gaze onto the floor again, playing with his fingers nervously as he chews onto his bottom lip. “Do you want me to stay?” He murmurs almost as a whisper, voice so weak and small that his question almost goes unnoticed by Haechan.

Haechan winces back, his mouth dry as he’s lost the capability to speak and he looks at Mark, completely speechless. “I…” Mark lifts his gaze on him again, his eyes hopeful yet mournful. “I want you to stay.” Haechan huffs, breathless. “I want you to stay so bad.” So he clings to his hand so that something human might exist in the chaos that they’ve created, feeling the stars explode in his veins from the touch-the touch that he hasn’t forgotten.

And Mark falls so naturally into his arms, like a flower to the sun and he wraps his arms around Haechan so tightly even if his fingers that dig into Haechan’s skin shake with fear, with fear of separation and-so Haechan holds him gently in his hands, he has been cracked enough as it is, and his heart is more shattered than he lets on and brings delight with a hug that charms the senses and touches the soul.

He tries to hold him closer but Mark wraps arms around his hips instead, his head falling into Haechan’s lap so he bends over him instinctively, shielding his body with his own.

Haechan with closed eyes presses their foreheads together, savoring the feeling of tranquil-possessing and cherishing the memory of their cold skin touching against, and the sound of their short breaths that fill the lonely home.

And it’s all it takes for Mark to break.

“I miss you so much, I miss you more than I remember you.” He wails, his hands desperately roam around his body, trying to bring him closer beyond physical- he wants to reach to his soul to feel complete again. “All the world wasn’t enough to forget you.” And he shakes violently, shattering in Haechan’s arms. “Asleep or awake, I dream of you. All the same. I, I can’t-“ A million gasping, choking leaves his lips as he wheezes through tears that scrape against his throat. “I can’t keep living in this world without you and all my grief says the same thing: this isn’t how it supposed to be. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. But then I wake up and reality holds my hope by the throats to remind me that this is how it is. And, and I, I can’t take this anymore. Every day is the same, every single day I repeat the same story.”

But Haechan just shushes him, rubbing his shoulders gently to scoot out the choked words the male tried to stow away. “Let’s fix the mess we’ve made, okay?” Haechan murmurs against his skin as he leaves a soft, shy kiss onto his forehead and carefully cupping his face he lifts Mark’s face. “We won’t make the same mistakes this time, right?” Haechan wipes the hot tears from his eyes, feeling his finger pads sting. “I think…” He stops to look out of the window when he notices the sun rising up from the mountains, washing away the dark sorrow that surrounded them. “I think, we deserve a soft epilogue we battled enough.”

And Mark gazes at him for a heartbeat, blinking the tears away before he lunges into his arms once more and Haechan’s welcomed to wrap his arms around him, he softly puts his chin onto his head and gazes as the stars have faded In the purple chill, hues of blues, blinks of pinks, and passions of purples, all blended with the cotton clouds that sit long and still.

It’s oddly calming to watch the sun reach the skies, lighthearted he closes his eyes, treasuring every sound of quiet Mark’s heartbeat and he doesn’t even feel sad when the weight from his arms is suddenly lifted as he watches the male fade away in the rays of the sunlight.

And at first, it was just a streak of light then all at once the world got bright.


	5. Neither ever, nor never (goodbye)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my lovelies! How are you? Hope you’re doing alright!  
> After a long break I finally uploaded the new chapter, do I like it? Nah. And I know some of you may feel like that I’m going around the bush about Haechan’s past but I feel like it’s needed for character developments, so bear with me!  
> Quick question though, do you want a chapter like 3rd one but about Mark? About Mark’s childhood without Donghyuck in it? Or is it too boring and over-done for you? Leave any kind of opinions or criticism down below, you can text me on the curious cat as well! I always want to know what my readers think!  
> For the next update, I will try to do it fast if my mental health will allow me lol so I would greatly appreciate it if you could comment down because I’m not over exaggerating when I’m saying that your comments give me motivation!  
> Love ya!

“My dear child,” She speaks softly as she leans closer to him, observing every inch of him with her cold blue dead-eyes that always shake with unexplainable disquiet. “How are you feeling?” She asks, her tone calm and sincere but her voice is trembling with hidden nervosity. “Do you feel any pain?” 

He shakes his head daintily even if the clothing that is too small for him scratches against his skin tightly, blocking the air from his lungs-but the twingeing pain in his bones hurt so much more. 

Her grin widens, stretches unnaturally across her wrinkled skin and he feels an icy cold touch of her fingers as they glide across his bruised cheek. “That’s good, I will take your pain away.” She says and painfully grabs him by his arm, tugging him closer to her chest and leaving him breathless. “You will never feel the pain anymore, mommy will take care of you _this time._ ” She lulls and gently massages his skull that always throbs with an insufferable headache. He feels cold fingers tap against his lips, jolting him in surprise but he quickly recognizes the familiar bitter aftertaste of his pills. With no protest, he opens his mouth willingly, letting the tablet melt onto his tongue. He grimaces at the bitterness of the medicine regardless, still not used to the burning sensation it leaves in his throat but as soon as he feels a light nudge by his shoulder he forces himself to swallow the pill.

And with that, the lulling sensation of dizziness takes over his mind, forcing his heavy eyes to flutter shut. And even in the pitch-black room, he can see her smiling and the thought of making her proud makes it easier for him to make peace with his mind and let his eyes completely shut.

He hears a light sound of footsteps so he peeks through half-closed eyes and sees her lingering in front of the door, just looking at him but the light shining from the room outside completely shadows her in the dark, making it hard to see her. “I’ll be back soon, _Daniel_.” She assures and slowly closes the door whilst still staring at him and so he nods to himself and allows his aweary body to be drifted to the dreamland.

_Only she never came back._

Silence embraces Haechan as slowly but surely his brain awakens and so with a groan he presses his body against the blankets. Letting his sore eyes rest for a minute longer he rises from his empty bed in the morning, alone. 

The soulless house creaks awake and slowly the sounds of actuality start to register in his hazy mind. 

With courage, he gets out of bed, like each morning to face the same things over and over.

“At least I have you now.” He whispers as he pats the kitten softly, careful to not wake its sleeping form that lies on the corner of his bed-still keeping a distance from him. 

Outside he catches the familiar motorcycle glistening in the sunlight making him stop at his tracks and from the corner of his eye so he notices Mark and his friend, Jaemin laughing about something.

Haechan stays standing there for a heartbeat, just gazing at the male through knitted brows and mulls over his next step. 

Mark, he looks carefree giggling about something his friend said, and Haechan wonders if he should interrupt the cheerful atmosphere.

But he winces and takes a step back as the voices in the back of his head start to yell at him to run, to get away from the possible danger, making him see nothing but red. 

So shaking his head he heads towards the bus stop with hurried steps.

In the end, Mark is a stranger to him and he prefers to keep it that way-he’s not worth it to get heartbroken over.

Because Haechan has decided long ago that he will never again let someone waste another second on him, he has learned his life-lesson, there is always a person waiting for the best moment to attack, and often enough it’s the person you least expected it to be.

And he’s still scared to trust his own shadow, fearful that the slightest pressure would cause him to sink beneath the sea of ink he was lying upon, fearing that he would lose the thin barrier between himself and that rotten world while he’s still coughing up water from the last time they let him drown.

So he trained his brains to look for holes in a story. If something doesn't make sense, he will think about it over and over until it makes sense and without trust, there’s no cooperation. And without cooperation, there’s no progress. _And the story stops._

And he prefers to believe people are evil until they prove him otherwise. It’s safer that way, if he expects nothing from anybody he’s never disappointed.

On the bus, he places his head on the window and watches as the world starts to spin, an acoustic melody accompanying him in the background.

He scrolls down on his phone, searching for any possible missing person’s files, and checks the news just in case anyone comes with any helpful information. 

He doesn’t know what else he can do, the finish line never seemed so far away, every time he thinks he’s close to understanding it all, to solving the mystery of his doom-he always is pushed back with more force each time. 

So he exhales heavily and closing his eyes he drops his head back onto the seat, every inch of his body aching in a frazzle. His sleepless brain, burnout, and lethargy, thuds in relentless pain. 

He almost falls asleep, every so often he dozes off to the slumbering, his eyes hardly staying ajar as he gazes a bit of shut-eye at the world so full of life unfold behind the glass. 

“Good morning Haechan,” Mark exclaims when he catches the glimpse of the male walking Jonathan through the hallway.

Haechan momentarily freezes at his place and glances at him with uncertain, narrowed eyes but Mark’s eyes just widen in expectation, twitching with anticipation to see what will come next.

He hopes, no, he wants Haechan to let him get close to him, to let him go through the barriers the male has put out for everyone else.

But Haechan doesn’t budge, lost inside Mark’s eyes, searching for something he himself doesn’t know. And Jonathan, still holding onto Haechan’s hand, traces looks at them, his curious gaze shifting from Mark to Haechan.

What lasts for a short second feels like an eternity for Haechan as thousands of thoughts suffocate him.

_Trust or not to trust?_

_Threat or a friend?_

_Danger or serendipity?_

And as he’s tormented in between the urge of the fight or flight response, the wailing behind his head just gets louder, too blaring to be ignored and the voices beg him to escape, blurring the lines between actuality and irreality.

So he shakes his head, finally snapping out from the momentary haze and with short, hasty steps walks out from the scene.

Something tugs on Mark’s heart, heaving him as he watches the male getaway because the voices are telling him that “ _it’s not the way it’s supposed to be._ ” But that’s how it is-he’s once more dragged back to the familiar state of one of many strangers around Haechan.

Oddly enough, he catches the kid looking back at him as he’s being dragged by Haechan, gazing at him with an unreadable expression with his round, clear eyes, hiding something beneath them.

When Mark smiles at him he just averts his gaze back to Haechan, looking at him with an expression full of fondness and enthusiasm.

Mark sighs, some people are way too complex and complicated for someone as bland as Mark to comprehend. 

_“Haechan!”_

Haechan in a blank state of mind and feeling lighthearted lets his weightless body sway from side to side, and only the listlessness brain of his that aches, thuds in pain, is the sensation that barely keeps him conscious. His head bounces up and down, dropping harshly as he snoozes on and off.

“Haechan!” The voice calling out for him sounds so distant, morphs into a silenced buzzing in his ears as he feels losing the touch of reality when his eyes slip, closing so easily.

His legs feel like giving up, shake beneath the pressure of his tensed body so he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to soothe the stinging headache, and collapses against the wall in a search of steadiness. 

“Haechan!” The ear-splitting voice comes ringing from right beside him making him jolt in a sudden wave of fear and it almost ends up with him keeling over. 

When he finally manages to open his eyes halfway, he’s met with an angered co-worker of his.“I’ve been calling for you for ten minutes!” It takes a while before YangYang’s words finally register so with a pained groan he shakes his head and rubs his temples.

“Yeah sorry.” Haechan mumbles, slurring his words. “You were saying?”

“Take the food to table two, the food is getting cold.” YangYang shoves the food tray into his grasp and it takes everything in Haechan’s might to not drop it right now and there. 

So with shaky fingers and halting steps and an anxious heart, he waddles towards the table, praying for his shift to be over. 

His eyes never leave the clock on the wall and the uneasy feeling just spreads inside of him, shaking his body more viciously.

Up in the gray sky one yellow listless leaf-like some rare butterfly travels through the air and guides Haechan a way as his footsteps ring in frozen alleys where the naked, cackling trees accompany him whilst the crisping, quivering wind sharply snaps at their leaves.

Haechan shudders, sensing a shiver on his skin as he lets frost on his face so he exhales a heated breath on numbing lips.

But the moment he steps inside he’s stricken by the heated wave of warmness enveloping him in a welcoming hug. He gently takes off his coat and wraps it around his arms and as he walks by the faces from the missing persons’ posters follow him along, watch his every move.

“Haechanie!” He hears the familiar voice and he’s soon shadowed by the towering figure in front of him. Johnny gives him a tender smile, his eyes sparkle with nostalgia and Haechan counts one, or two more wrinkles on his face than years before. 

And it’s only then he becomes aware of how many years have passed by since his last visit.

“What brings you here?” Johnny asks as he carefully wraps his arm around Haechan, guiding him inside. “We don’t have any news, you know I would inform you immediately otherwise.” He gestures to Haechan to sit on the chair across him and carefully putting his fresh cup of coffee on the desk he also flops onto the seat.

Haechan nods, eyes darting back to hundreds of posters plastered all over the wall, so many unfamiliar eyes piercing through his skull.

“I’m not here for any missing kids’ file.” Haechan muffles through the sandwich Johnny kindly has offered, eyes still focused on the posters. Johnny leans back, arms crossed as he lets a low hum, curious to hear Haechan’s explanation whose eyes lingers on one particular poster of a child a second longer before he turns his attention back to the officer once more. “I have a few questions about, well, about _them_.”

Johnny breathes out heavily, melting even further with a seat. “We still haven’t found any new clues.” He informs, voice coming out quieter this time, filled with shame and unsaid apologizes. 

Haechan just nods, wasn’t expecting a different answer anyway. “I know, I just, there are a few things I can’t understand and you’re the one who knows this case the best.” He pleads quietly and places the food down, now gazing at Johnny with full attention. “Can you tell me what happened that day?”

“Well, it’s been more than a decade since,” Johnny murmurs, blinking at the ceiling, trying to squeeze the memory out from his brain.

“I'm sure you remember more than I do,” Haechan responds sternly but it sounds more sad than strict.

Johnny rubs his face before clapping his palm around his chin and dazes blankly into space. After a long-stretched silence, Haechan shuffles onto his seat, getting impatient from the lack of response from the detective.

But Johnny just groans softly as nothing comes to his min before gazing at Haechan with sad, shameful eyes. “This old man is useless now.” He chuckles bitterly and before Haechan can muster a response he’s already standing up from the chair and stretching his back, his bones crack unpleasantly loud. “Let me find the report for you and let’s grab something to eat, shall we?”

“Is it...legal?” Haechan wonders, his brow perked up as he watches Johnny walk away.

“I'm the head of the office, I can make exceptions here and there.” He smiles faintly and tenderly ruffles Haechan’s hair and with unhurried steps disappears in between the high shelves. 

_**Mitchells’** _

_**Name: Mrs. Laura Mitchell** _

_**Date of birth: 22/10/71** _

_**Occupation: Nurse** _

Haechan's eyes linger on the official photo of the woman for a moment longer, his fingers tremble and the grip on the file tightens, wrinkling the paper.

Despite how many years have passed by, he still shudders in the cold gaze of her piercing blue eyes and he feels a cold sweat drench his skin and the familiar feeling of dread heave his lungs as the images of these pair of eyes flash in front of him, ogling him with the same irking sense of mania.

There was nothing sane about these blue eyes.

They always quivered vigorously, with unfading terror beneath-like a feral, injured animal looking in the eyes of death. 

And even when her stare was fixated on him, her chilling orbs always looked past him, as if they gazed through him into nothingness, at something that didn’t exist and something that Haechan wasn’t.

She never looked at Haechan; her eyes never recognized him as a solid form. He doesn’t know if she even perceived his existence or if he was just a flesh of a façade of something she was trying to find beneath.

She’s smiling in the photo, like she always did-her grin outstretched unnaturally wide like every time she gripped on his arm a bit too hard, lunged him close to her chest to the point he couldn’t breathe. She always smiled, even when tears trailed down from her crazy eyes to her wrinkled, grayed skin.

Haechan is sure that this very smile will haunt him in his worst nightmares till his last breath.

Shaking his head he tries to discard the dire images from his sight and with a shaky exhale he flips to the next page.

_**Name: Mr. William Mitchell** _

_**Date of birth: 17/04/68** _

_**Occupation: Neurologist** _

He has no solidified recollections of the man, he was…he was just there, lingering in the corners, behind her shoulder as he gazed at him with dropped eyes heaved with shame, and remorse even. He, like a puppet in the dollhouse, was bound by the strings that were restrained by her claws, ruling his every step to not let the house of the nightmares that she had built go out of the order.

Bellow, there is a note pinned to the paper jotted with messy scribbles that are barely legible that have been clearly written in a rush.

Haechan’s frown just deepens, wrinkles his skin further as he tries to read through words that have been smudged by ink.

As Haechan goes through Johnny’s transcripts he views the family the way he didn’t have a chance to experience. He learns that they were an ordinary middle-class family, working at the same hospital, and from the quick interviews with the neighbors he gathers that they were nothing but generous and friendly and that they were people of faith and regularly went to the local church.

At the first glance they looked like a normal, loving family but Haechan guesses it’s true when they say that curtains were invented for a reason. You will never know what hides beneath the vibrant walls until it’s too late.

But what catches his attention is a circled sentence inkier and written with the bigger letters, standing out like a sore thumb.

_**Issues with relatives.** _

There is no explanation for a sudden change of tone about the ‘perfect family.’ The sentence doesn’t look like it’s directed to the same family he was reading about a moment ago.

So with confused, wide eyes, he whips his face towards Johnny. “Did any of their family members speak about their disappearance?”

Johnny, in the middle of drinking red wine, perks his brows and waves his hand in a gesture to wait and Haechan does so, he shifts onto the chair as he waits impatiently. “Only after the disappearance.” He coughs and smoothly wipes his lips with a napkin. “They’ve lost their touch with their family members and if not their neighbor, god knows how much longer it would take to notice the police of their disappearance.” He intones heavily and with a sigh leans back onto the chair, his arms crossed. “And we called them for the investigation afterward and as well for-“He cuts himself in the mid-sentence to sneak a nervous look at Haechan, clearly hesitant. “We had to discuss your custodianship.” He whispers almost inaudible, sounding out of breath.

And they feast one's eyes for a spell before Johnny’s words finally register in Haechan’s ears, making him freeze momentary and tighten his grip on the torn-out file, wrinkling it.

He knows that by the law the first place he would be taken in custody would be his parents’ relatives, so logically they had to decline the offer because _who is_ Haechan to deserve a loving family.

Uncertainty and confusion must have been visible on his expression because Johnny hurriedly tries to clarify his doubts. “But because we couldn’t find any documents stating about your adoption, they weren’t legally required to take you in their custody.”

And his suspicions are once again proven right. Haechan is an unwanted child, in the end, undeserved of love and with no place to go, and even if he had, he doesn’t know if he would be welcomed.

He gulps, his throat suddenly dry, unable to form a sentence and it takes him a moment or two before he’s able to choke out words once more. “In your notes, it’s, you say, that-“He shakes his head, trying to get ahold of hurricane thoughts that fog his mind but his fingers just shake more viscously. Unable to stop shaking he wraps his cold fingers around his knee, pinching his scar in comfort. “It said that they had issues with their relatives.” He manages to blurt out through gritted teeth in an attempt to prevent his chin from wobbling.

Johnny eyes him sadly, shame and pity visible behind his kind, honey orbs which agitates Haechan stronger. He doesn’t need his pity. And Haechan’s squeezing his scar so hard that he’s afraid that the wound will be reopened, ready to bleed once again.

“They didn’t approve of their marriage, that’s why they cut their ties.” Johnny starts but doesn’t forget to take a secret look of the boy, to take in his expression, and when he notes nothing but a spirit of inquiry he lets himself go on. “Laura is infertile and William’s family didn’t want them to get married because she couldn’t have kids, which put a strain between the families.”

Breath caught in his throat, Haechan dazes blankly for a long moment, too corrupted by his thoughts before he draws a heavy sigh with a nod and goes back to reading the file.

_**Daniel** _

He gasps lungful, and suddenly everything feels not to be borne, an overwhelming feeling of dread sets his body up in flames, sizzling his nerves. He feels like choking on his own blood that floods his lungs, blocks the air incoming, leaving him breathless and drained the more closely he looks at the photo of the tombstone.

_**August 10, 2004- August 19, 2004** _

At once he feels punch-drunk, his mind hazy and vision blurry as the letters on the gray stone meld with one other and the sound of carefree laughter, or a soft sound of piano playing on the background, buzz like a white sound in his befogged ears, hushed by the ear-splitting ringing that comes from somewhere of his mind, piercing through his skull.

He blinks rapidly in a hope that once he flutters his eyes the image will vanish out of his sight and become yet another dream-false reality by his wild imagination.

Her strident voice calls out for him by the name that doesn’t belong to Haechan-because she has never left, her presence is forever imprinted inside his damaged brain.

“Premature birth.” Johnny’s thickly voice rings in his ears, his explanation short and dry but enough to explode the tumult inside of Haechan.

Haechan, trying to show nonchalance on his expression just hums in response, masking his raw nerves, and continues to read with wide-open eyes, afraid to miss anything important.

_**Change in Laura’s behavior.** _

_**Neighbors hear them fighting more often.** _

The handwriting gets messier and messier as the reports escalate to the worse and Haechan can’t keep up with his own eyes as they flitter at a rate of knots, skipping from one sentence to another desperate to finish at the conclusion.

_**Breakdown at the hospital.** _

_**1 week suspended from work.** _

He perks up, his eyes wide with confusion as his gaze lands on Johnny once more in a search for answers, for clarifications for his never-ending questions.

“She tried to attack a pregnant woman but no complaint came forwards,” Johnny says tiredly, sounding out of breath as if it’s too exhausting to even think about this case-he like Haechan wants nothing but to finally close this chapter of theirs lives. Happy ending or not, everyone deserves closure.

After learning that the couple went as volunteer doctors to South Korea, in the corner there is a question smudged with black ink, barely visible. Haechan almost didn’t catch it at first.

**_August-September???_ **

Troubled, his brows perk up in confusion. There is no explanation, no additional note, and as he attentively continues to read it seems like from there on, Johnny has more questions than the actual answers.

**_Where did 30.000 $ go?_ **

Haechan quickly shuffles through the official report of the bank account, his fingers slide on the documented piece of data before it lands on the cash of payment that indeed reads 30 thousand dollars which undeniably is a penny-pinching number in contrast to before tight-fisted paycheck. 

“Thirty thousand dollars.” He mumbles under his breath, still bewildered to see such a huge number.

“Withdraw was made as cash-money, so it was impossible to track the payment receiver.” Johnny interrupts his thoughts so he lifts his face on his level, gazing at him with frowned brows and as Johnny watches the disappointment wash over the boy’s face he quickly adds on. “Also we’re dealing with a different country with different laws, which complicated everything more.”

Haechan nods even if he can’t wrap his mind around the fact that the middle-class family could afford to let such a huge amount of cash to waste. There must be a reason and he now understands why Johnny’s journal is filled with nothing but question marks.

Nothing in this story makes sense.

_**on 25 September 2005, they went back to Canada.** _

And if he thought that the story couldn’t get more outré and outlandish, he was proven wrong as more question marks come to his vision, smudged by ink.

_**Change in behavior.** _

_**Isolate from neighbors.** _

_**They stop going to church.** _

_**Leaving the house only at night.** _

And it’s baffling how seemingly a story of a normal family did such a quick turn to something sinister, something he never wishes to anyone.

But what makes a breath hitch in his throat is the next sentence.

_**The next-door neighbor catches a glimpse of a child from her window.** _

_**No mentions of adoption.** _

__

Haechan's fingers start to shake, holding a dear life on the papers in an attempt to ground himself, to not let his thoughts go haywire. He gulps, but the lump stays scraping against his throat, and with an uneven intake of breath he continues to read.

**_Illegal adoption? Trafficking? Kidnaping?_ **

Slowly, but surely everyone started to catch the weird behavior of the couple. Haechan reads the interviews with their co-workers, neighbors who before had to say nothing but nice compliments about the pair but now the only description seem to follow them is ‘looking unreasonably anxious all the time’

As if two totally different lovers came back from Korea.

Before outgoing and kind people completely isolated themselves from the world, only leaving the house at the odd hours. Before people of a faith forgotten about the church and on the corner of the wrinkled paper he catches yet another smudged writing, clearly written in a rush.

_**Father Thomas (Hiding something)** _

Haechan looks up at Johnny whose eyes have been following the pages and with an exhale he leans further back on the chair. “She told him something during confession… something sinister.” And Haechan blinks, not understanding the crypticness of the confession so Johnny drops his head in shame and whispers barely audible. “He’s a priest, he’s forbidden to say.”

Haechan huffs in a terrible imitation of a laugh as he gapes at the officer in front of him who hasn’t dared to look into his eyes yet. He shakes his head, dumbfounded by the ridiculousness of the situation; how every event leading to one another is doing everything to let the case be solved. As if the universe plays the foul play, doing everything in its might to prevent Haechan from reaching the finish line.

_**Bone surgery on the leg.** _

_**Broken arm.** _

_**Fractured ribs, neck, and head.** _

_**Newly healed. Less than a year ago.** _

_**High dose of TCA and Z drugs in his blood. (Purchases of sleeping pills and painkillers)** _

And the handwriting gets just messier on the torn and wrinkled paper, words squiggled in one another illegibly, clearly written erratically in urgency and furry.

Haechan’s heart drops the more he reads about the injuries that he sometimes forgets how severe they were. How one could go through such a traumatic experience that has caused such terrible injuries, especially a kid, and couldn’t remember any of it, is beyond Haechan.

In all honesty, he doesn’t know wherever to feel blessed or cursed that his brain decided to permanently wipe these memories out of his brain.

**_Memory loss? The boy doesn’t speak._ **

Haechan visibly stiffens he feels his flesh creep making it impossible to mask his daunt with his teeth chattering once chills shiver to the marrow, making his hair stand on end. And the tone in the jotter drops into defeat, disappointment even as the words are aimlessly splattered around the paper.

_**The boy doesn’t remember anything.** _

_**There is no document about his upbringing.** _

_**No official document of adoption.** _

Haechan feels his heart sink deeper and deeper as the last string of hope is ripped out mercilessly. The story, his story doesn’t even feel real, it more sounds like a piece of fiction because how star-crossed can someone be? How destructive and fatal his destiny can get? As if every event, every choice was made just to afflict him down on luck.

_**No official files of missing children in Korea around that time.** _

_**The Korean government isn’t cooperating.** _

_**Who is this boy?** Who am I?_

Haechan doesn’t even comprehend that he’s already on the last page of this anecdotic excuse of his life story. His story really is something beyond the universe to laugh at.

_**Last seen around 1st August leaving the house in the evening as witnessed by the next-door neighbor.** _

_**They made small talk with the neighbor at around 8 pm.** _

_**Witness says they didn’t act out of the ordinary and seemed in a good mood, saying they went out for groceries.** _

_**After 3 days the car didn’t show up the neighbor called the police after she heard a child’s cries.** _

Haechan lets a dumbfounded, breathy laugh-because this is how the story ends and this is how his eternal nightmare has started.

_**August 10, 2006** _

_**The kid will be taken to the orphanage before the family will be found.** _

Only they never were found even after 14 years as Haechan is sitting there and reading about people he has no recollection, nor connection to.

His life is really pitiful.

With a heavy sigh, Haechan leans back, avoiding his eyes from the files he gazes blankly into nothingness, blinking rapidly as he tries to ink each and every word deep into his brain, to not let any important information to slip ever again. "So..." He starts, his voice uneasy, wobbly and with a quiet cough, he tries to steady his tone whilst gripping dear life on his scar. "Can you tell me about the day you rescued me?" Haechan mutters wearily.

Johnny never spoke about that day, no matter how many times growing up Haechan asked him to and now he thinks he's mature enough to learn about it because his memories about that day, unsurprisingly, are hazy and unclear.

When he catches the uncertainty wash over Johnny's expression, his heart drops, along with his voice as he meekly, barely whispers a pleading "Please?"

Johnny closes his eyes and exhales heavily, having no desire to let past memories haunt him once more. But Haechan deserves to know, so with a thick tone he starts. “Well, it was early in the morning when we got a call. The neighbor was complaining about cries coming from Mitchells' home and asked us to do a welfare check.” Johnny licks his dried chapped lips and after a bat of silence chugs another cup of wine. “So we go there and nothing seems out of the ordinary at first but my partner, Doyoung, he then also hears the sound of cries as well, childlike cries.” Johnny puts his chin into his palms and peeps at him through his long lashes but Haechan nods urgently, telling him to go on. “So we knock on the door but there is no answer. The car isn’t parked in the driveway as well, so at first, we think that they had made a quick trip and the kid was presumably alone at home. But when we knocked again you immediately stopped crying, I don’t know, you probably were scared.” Haechan watches the way the frown in between Johnny’s brows tightens, his resentment of the memory is exposed for Haechan’s eyes to witness.

Johnny massages his temples as if to force the memoir to be re-opened after so many years. His eyes are closed as he continues “The permission for the warrant takes a time and we couldn’t just barge in without any solid evidence, so we waited for a while and you didn’t make any noise afterward so we got worried that you were in a possible danger and called the boss.” He chuckles bitterly, his lips hidden behind yet another cup of alcohol. “I remember how angry he got, he cursed us with no end for wasting so much of precious time but I will blame my recklessness for being a newbie.”

Haechan shakes his head without batting an eye, wordlessly disagreeing. He knows how much blood and sweat Johnny wasted on helping him and he can appreciate the effort no matter the outcome. “So we try to find a way to inside...”

“We won’t get in trouble right?” Johnny whisper-yells, looking worriedly at Doyoung who’s mimicking the same anxious expression.

“Boss told us to do so, right?” Doyoung answers with another question, not sounding confident even in the slightest.

They tip-toe around the house, trying to make as little noise as possible. Johnny loyally traces behind Doyoung, looking around for any sign of danger-gun already up on a display in his trembling hands. Doyoung tries to find any open window so they will go inside without much fuss but when he finds none he exhales a defeated sigh, looking at Johnny they exchange words through their eyes, and after a second or two, Doyoung with his elbow smashes the glass. “We have no other option.” He tries to assure but Johnny doesn’t know if he’s trying to convince him or himself.

Johnny doesn’t have time for second-guessing as Doyoung hops inside gracefully and leaving him with no other option but to follow him with a sigh.

They stand in the main room for a few minutes, just looking around. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, the house is in a good state, with no sign of forced entry or struggle. The main room is in a tidy shape and suddenly Johnny is thrown into a panic and he can only hope and pray that the family won’t sue.

They go around the living room, scanning every corner of the house-feeling defeated for a heartbeat but then Johnny’s eyes catch something out of the ordinary so he frantically, yet with no real force, nudges Doyoung.

They both gaze at the plate full of rotten food, ants already finding their way all over it.

Johnny frowns, it may seem not worth bothering about but something in his gut is telling him that something’s wrong, very wrong. The small outstanding piece that puts the normal house out of the order is enough to aflame it as a red flag for Johnny. Because what could possibly happen that put the family in such a rush that they didn’t even finish their food?

“Let’s split?” Doyoung’s hushed voice snaps him out from his thoughts so with a stiff nod he pushes even more so hesitant Doyoung towards the stairs.

Johnny grips a bit all too tightly onto his gun as he wanders around the first floor, still without causing any distinct sounds because if there is indeed a possible criminal lurking around, he can only hope that they won’t cause him too much trouble.

Nothing stands out to be worth his attention but as he stands in front of another closed door, a basement perhaps, he grips a bit too tightly onto the door handle with his free hand because something irks his skin, putting the wind up him.

Johnny inhales a deep breath, trying to calm soothe his raging nerves. He doesn’t know what could await him behind the wooden door but if his gut feeling is accurate, it’s something that will strike terror into him.

His face twisted in anxiety, eyes squeezed and send into a cold sweat he finally gains enough courage to open the door.

And he’s met with…nothing.

Deprived of sight he enters the room of gloominess. With shaky hands, he tries to find the switcher to gain his vision back on but when he fails to no avail he makes the first step into the blackness.

He shakes his flashlight that flickers weekly in the darkness. “Is anyone here? It’s the police!” He yells, trying to come off as confident and not to let his tone filled with terror be audible. “It’s a police come out!” He shouts again but gets only silence in a response making him sigh in relief unwittingly.

With no desire to stay longer in this eerie place he quickly checks the place and when he’s already stepping on the stair is when he hears a faint sound of wood creaking and it forthwith makes his blood run cold and freeze to his place.

“It’s the police! Put your hands up!” He yells in an inhumane voice, which reaches even Doyoung’s ears, and not even a blink of an eye he’s also bolting down the basement, gun pointed at nothing. “Come out!” Johnny snarls again, flashing the room around.

They once again exchange looks and with slow, short steps walk closer to the wooden furniture and soon a yet another creaking sound disturbs the silence which curdles Johnny’s blood as adrenaline pumps through his veins, making him see nothing but red as he grips his jaw, sweat dripping from his forehead.

With shaky fingers Johnny opens the closet, gun quivering in his hands and he shouts “Freeze!”

What he finds in the old, dusty closet is a small child paralyzed in fear, shaking like a leaf in the sight of a gun and with tears in one's terror-stricken eyes. 

Everything goes in a blur after that and Johnny only manages to let a small gasp in trepidation just when the kid tears his dewy-eyed gaze from a firearm and makes a choked sound of a muffled scream as his hair stands on end and his eyes open wide in horror before he lets out an ear-splitting screech, shaking the walls around and in a flash, the boy’s skin grows dull and his eyes roll back, but Johnny is quick to react this time and he manages to catch the kid before he can go headlong.

With uneven, short gasps he gulps air into his lungs as he holds the kid close, gripping tightly onto his lump body in both fear and relief. Letting a shaky breath he weakly, almost inaudible whispers. “Call the ambulance.”

“And this is it.” Johnny sounds out of breath as he finishes retelling the story. “Sadly, we don’t have any improvements with the case.” He adds then timidly, his tone full of shame. 

Haechan doesn’t speak for a few seconds, too lost in his thoughts, trying to commit each and every word to memory-so that he will be able to keep forever.

Then he nods and leaning back he crosses his arms, still gazing at nothing, and through pursed lips, he mumbles. “Thank you for giving me your time.” 

Johnny only shrugs because both of them know well that it’s the least he can do. “Memories? Did you recollect any memories?” He asks carefully, afraid to put Haechan off his stroke.

This makes Haechan clam up, he drops his gaze onto the floor and catches his bottom lip in between his teeth, nibbling it softly before he sighs and his shoulders drop in defeat. “No, I still can’t remember anything.” 

An uncomfortable silence washes over the table, a light tune of the piano still playing somewhere in the background, and neither of them dare to speak. But what is there to talk about anyway?

Haechan shakes his head when he hears a low sigh coming from the officer so he nervously rubs his clammy hands onto his clothes. “I should probably get going, I have to go to my night-shift.” He quickly starts to gather his belongings while he offers to split the bill which Johnny politely declines.

Haechan slides the file towards Johnny but the man just shakes his head, confusing Haechan.”You can keep it.” The officer answers shortly.

Haechan gazes at him with raised brows for a moment before he sighs and nods. “I’m going then, thanks for the report.” He shakes a stack of papers and offers a small, timid smile before putting the coat on. Johnny stays unmoving from his place, not daring to say a word as his gaze is fixated on the floor.

But the moment Haechan steps away, Johnny decides to speak up. “I will find them, I promise.” This forces Haechan to turn his head back and for a moment he stares at the hunched state of the policeman who still doesn’t have the guts to meet his eyes. 

So with a sigh, Haechan speaks up. “There are tons of unsolved cases only in this town, detective Suh, don’t feel obliged to waste your time on mine.” 

Haechan blinks rapidly, waits for a moment or two for the detective’s response but Johnny stays frozen in his place, not looking at him, not particularly looking at anything and when the silence stretches for too long Haechan shakes his head quietly and steps away with a heavy heart.

“I’m glad.” Haechan stops at his tracks, not bothering to look back this time. “I'm glad that you grew up so well Haechan. I'm proud of you.” His words make Haechan’s heart clutch uncomfortably tight, taking his breath away as he feels his fingers start to tremble. 

Johnny finally lifts his gaze at Haechan, staring at his back with sorrowful eyes. And Johnny means it wholeheartedly, he was there to witness the ill-fated kids stumble down on the wrong path-the kids he once rescued but ended up putting them behind the bars years later. 

But Haechan is different, _he always has been_ , even with star-crossed fate, even after going through so much suffering and pain, even if once he was bleeding to death in Johnny’s arms, even if he witnessed life wipe away from the boy’s eyes-he stays strong as ever.

And it’s a shame really, that the detective wasn’t strong enough to help and ease the kid’s heartache. 

For a long moment, he stays watching Haechan’s back but instead he visions younger Haechan who with slow steps walked inside the orphanage where Johnny himself took him to, holding onto the teddy bear which Johnny gave him as a gift, before glancing back at him, his eyes wide full of hope and trust.

_This time Haechan doesn’t turn around._

“Goodbye detective Suh.” He mutters dryly without sparing him a second glance and with that he walks away. 

When Haechan completely disappears from his sight is when Johnny exhales the breath he didn’t know he was holding this whole time. 

A smaller, more selfish part of him wished that the kid would turn around for the last time, and would give him the same look of faithfulness and dependability. But this Haechan doesn’t need him anymore, doesn’t trust him anymore…

With a heavy sigh, he signals the waiter to come and quickly pays for the dinner.

Some mistakes can’t be fixed and Johnny has to accept the fact that the kid who once depended on him, doesn’t exist anymore. 

And as Johnny lights his cigarette up, he lets the smoke out from his lungs with a heavy exhale, enfolding the surroundings in a misty fog. He watches how the smoke fades into thin air in a slo-mo, grade by grade displaying the serene moon for eyes to view once more. Johnny aimlessly gazes at the dark, starless sky for a heartbeat, and the images of the past roll like an old movie in his brain, taking him back to memory lane.

Johnny's head is bouncing, hidden deep into his knees that buckle unstoppably as he massages his temples, trying to lighten the headache that hasn’t stopped throbbing since the whole ordeal. 

Every time Johnny closes his eyes, the images of the kid, of his frightened doe eyes looking at him with so much terror, is brought back to his vision. Making his heart squeeze with shame each time.

But his dwell of guilt is quickly interrupted when he senses a featherlike tap on his shoulder and so with a languorous motion he lifts his face and finds Doyoung sitting on his desk, his expression indecipherable as he blankly dazes into space. “The kid doesn’t remember anything.” It’s the only thing he murmurs, still without meeting Johnny’s eyes but it’s enough to spark the twinges of conscience and heavy-heartedness to come round again. 

Johnny lets a stained groan and drops his head back onto his knees, letting the feeling of hopelessness taunt his thoughts, but Doyoung keeps going-even if his voice gets unstedier and shakier with each word. “He has head trauma.” Doyoung clears his throat, holding one's tongue, and refuses to speak for a moment, withholding information. “Severe one.” He adds then, above the whisper. 

Sick at heart, Johnny sighs with closed eyes, trying to ease his devastated spirit. A million thoughts, assumptions, and theories spin together like a hurricane in his mind, putting his soul into a storm. 

But then he hears something drop onto the table which makes him peek through his lashes and he finds Doyoung placing a set of photos neatly. 

“Skull fracture.” Doyoung remarks pointing at one particular radiograph, he tries to come off as level-headed, sounding steady but his voice wavers at the end, letting true emotions to be heard. “But it’s already healed.” 

Johnny carefully takes the picture of the skull X-ray, revealing an indeed fracture line going across the temporal bone, making his heart drop. “Doctors think it could be a reason for his memory loss added with-” Doyoung clears his throat once more, trying to gasp out the following words. “Whatever mental trauma he had to go through.” 

He’s just a child. 

He has to be running around the field, playing with his friends, be in an embrace of loving parents-not to be lying on the hospital bed with permanent scars on his tiny body. 

“Are we dealing with a case for cps?” Johnny whispers carefully, afraid to voice the dreadful truth out-because he still hangs on the last string of hope that not everyone has to be evil. That there is some good left in humanity. 

“By the doctor’s words, it couldn’t be caused by the hands of a person, because, because the injuries, they-” Doyoung laments exasperated and vigorously shuffles photos around the desk, putting the countless X-ray pictures on the display. “Look how many broken bones he has!” He shouts in both fury and disbelief but it sounds muffled in Johnny’s ears as he’s fixated on the photos. 

Bone after bone, each and every bit of the kid has been broken, fractured, or injured and he feels revolted just by the thought that there is no unmarked part of his body left.

_He’s just a kid._

“What-Who-What kind of monster could have done this?” Doyoung murmurs defeated, his shoulders slumped as he guards his balance on the desk, breathing heavily.

But Johnny remains silent, his eyes shaking by the sight of the pictures as he feels his pulse pick up the pace, ringing loud in his ears.

“What the hell are we dealing with?” Doyoung whispers, his voice panic-stricken. 

“I don’t know.” It’s the only thing Johnny blurts out.

Because he really can’t wrap his mind around who, or what kind of brute could have a soul, had the grit to put a child through something like that. A child, a small, vulnerable child. 

The very next day Johnny dashes through the washed-out hallway, struggling to keep one’s balance as his feet slip above the polished floor. He almost trips over when he eventually gets to the reception but fortunately, he manages to hold onto the desk, startling the nurse behind the glass in the process. 

His appearance is slovenly to say at least, his skin red from all the running and hair sticking out in every direction. 

Johnny hunches over, breathing hard and erratic, puffing and panting, fighting for the air and the nurse is left with no other option but to watch before the policeman finally regains the ability to breathe again. 

Johnny gulps and leans over the desk, taking his badge with closed eyes. “I’m here to see the kid that was checked in yesterday.” He says hoarsely and when he takes in the confused look the nurse is giving him he elaborates with a sigh. “He doesn’t remember his name.”

The nurse blinks, still looking a bit bemused before realization lights up on her expression so she drops her gaze onto the papers. “He’s in room 108.” She replies gently, offering him a timid, yet polite smile.

Johnny nods and at a leisurely pace, he searches for the patient’s room, gripping tightly onto the plastic bag as he walks by.

He stays outside the room for a moment to soothe his agitated nerves. He doesn’t know in what state the kid will await him, or how he will react when he will recognize him and it brings nothing but trouble to his heart.

He inhales heavily and rubs his clammy hands onto his pants and with a shaky breath, he opens the door. 

The first thing his eyes catch up on is the petite figure sitting at the corner of the hospital bed gazing outside the window and holding and rubbing something in his palms. 

But when he hears the door creak he quickly hides whatever item he was handling beneath the white sheets but Johnny notices the item glisten in the sunlight. 

When he turns his head back to Johnny, the policeman’s heart pangs in pain as he takes in the melancholic gaze the kid is giving him. He looks fatigued, it’s the first thing Johnny thinks. His eyes dropped and sorrowful, any child-like glimmer dimmed out as he observes Johnny’s every movement. 

There is undeniable sadness in the way the boy is staring at him, an utter hopelessness reads in between his eyes, resembling a prey trapped by a predator, coming to terms with dying. 

Johnny with a sigh, and a heavy heart, sits down on the chair across from him and the child just watches him with his dull eyes. “Do you remember me?” He asks, forcing a cheerful tone in hopes to start a small talk but when he notices a fear wash over the kid's face, his heart picks up a pace so he stutters in panic. “I'm a policeman, I won’t hurt you.” He tries to assure by showing him his badge and the boy evidently calms down after hearing these words, looking free from strife on the surface as his short shoulders slump further down in relief.

An uncomfortable silence settles inside the room as neither of them speaks up, nor breaking the shared eye-gaze. 

Truth to be told Johnny doesn’t know what to do, or how to talk to the kid, or why he even showed up but one thing he’s confident about is that he wants to help the child so with a sigh he sits more comfortably onto the chair. “Do you know why am I here?” 

The kid lifts his gaze at the ceiling with pursed lips, looking deep in his thoughts before he shakes his head blandly. 

“I want to help you.” The kid blinks, clear uncertainty, and dubiety in his eyes. “But we need your help too, is it alright?” Johnny asks carefully, attentive to not rattle the boy's cage. 

But the child only nods, still looking suspicious of the policeman. 

Johnny lets out a heavy breath, trying to find the right words. “Do, did you remember anything?”

The boy frowns and his bottom lip gets caught in between the gap of his freshly removed front teeth and he drops his head down, fumbling with his fingers before he barely shakes his head. 

“Can you, um, can you speak?” Johnny inquires impertinently into the question everyone is curious about.

Kid flinches, peeling the skin off from next to nail “I-” he makes a strangled noise which quickly gets caught in his throat so he just settles on nodding. 

Johnny sighs in relief, that’s good, at least there is some positive outcome. 

He shuffles around on his seat a bit, trying to sit more comfortably when he hears a crunching sound and he’s reminded of the gift he almost forgot about. “Right...I have a present for you.” He whispers through a lopsided smile. 

Child visibly perks his eyes on the mention of a gift so Johnny carefully places the bag onto the hospital bed and watches the way the kid eyes fixate at it curiously, yet doubtfully and how haltingly his short fingers touch the bag, testing the waters before he finally rips it open and his eyes immediately flood with light like a Christmas tree as he eagerly takes the toy out, holding it tight to his chest.

“Do you like it?” Johnny asks tenderly and lets himself lean closer to him. The kid nods frantically, gripping onto the toy firmer as if it's the last source of his comfort. And Johnny watches with a fond smile as the kid caresses the teddy bear with full of affection, his fingers lazily play with a fake fur of the toy. 

But it’s a painful reminder that he’s just a kid, a small, softhearted, and well-behaved kid and it makes Johnny’s heart clutch with an unbearable feeling of affliction. “I really want to help you.” He whispers breathy, his voice unsteady and shaky, ready to break each given second. 

The child stiffens, he absurdly stops playing with the toy and just looks down blankly at his fidgeting fingers. 

Johnny’s heart breaks into two as he takes in the helpless state of a kid so even if he still can’t comprehend what to do he sits next to the child and gently pats him on his slumped shoulder. “I know it’s hard but let’s at least try, alright?” Even though the boy nods, he never lifts his gaze. “My name is Johnny, do you know yours?”

Johnny feels his shoulders tremble beneath his palm so he tilts his head to the side, trying to get the best angle to read the kid’s expression only to lock his eyes with the boy's glassed ones. 

In a state of panic, Johnny wraps his arms around the child without a second guess, bringing his back close in a comforting hug. “It’s okay if you don’t.” He says as he gently puts his chin atop the messy locks of the nameless boy. “I told you, I’m here to help, didn’t I?”

He hears the kid sniff softly, wiping the unshed tears with his white-knuckled fists and Johnny is able to breathe out in relief.

He shuffles around a bit, trying to get hold of his beg without disturbing the boy who lays comfortably into his arms. 

“Let’s play a little game, shall we?” This somehow catches the child’s attention so he turns his round face at him, gazing at him with wide, curious eyes. “Policeman going to show you photos and you just have to answer a few questions, do you understand?” The boy nods eagerly, without tearing his eyes from him.

Johnny softly puts the pictures of the couple’s relatives on the display. “Do you recognize any of these people?”

The boy dazes at the photos for a while, full concentration visible on his adorable features with his brows knitted and lip playfully caught between his teeth. He lifts his face towards Johnny again and with a pout, he shakes his head but Johnny just offers him a small, yet a genuine smile and delicately ruffles his hair. 

They go on like this for a while, Johnny putting photos of the couple's friends, colleagues, people close to them and the child wrapped safely in his arms and he dangles his legs into air time by time, moving around and humming melodies under his breath and all of it is enough to swell the elder’s heart with affection towards the kid, but it also has a painful bite, in the end, every time he’s reminded again and again that someone as a warm-hearted and pure soul has to go through so much pain and suffering and truth to be told if Johnny didn’t have enough self-control he probably would break down in tears here and then. 

The boy, oddly enough, doesn’t recognize any of the faces and Johnny tries everything in his might to not show the deep disappointment and sadden the kid. 

But when he places the photo of the couple the kid’s breath hitches in his throat and he visibly stiffens which alarms the anxiety in Johnny’s already heaved heart. “You remember them?” He queries, but his voice comes off louder than intended which makes the kid tremble more viscously, unable to stop so Johnny quickly tightens his grip around him and caresses his fingers through his hair, pacifying the child’s reasonable distress. 

“Are they-” He coughs, the lump heaving his throat isn’t letting him voice the following words that make him uneasy in the heart. Suddenly he feels nauseous. “Are they bad people?” He whispers weakly, unable to properly voice his worst fear aloud because only the thought of his assumptions being proven true will be enough to cast a gloom upon him. 

The kid stays quiet for a moment but long enough to drive Johnny into ripping his own skin off.

Unbelievably and even confusingly enough, the boy shakes his head, blowing Johnny away and taking his breath away in the act. Utterly flabbergasted Johnny stares at the kid with wide, perplexed eyes, trying to catch any uncertainty wash over the boy but he stays still in the same position, gazing at him as much intensively. 

“Did they, um, did they ever hurt you?” He circles around the same issue which drags the boy back into his thoughts as he looks up at the ceiling with pursed lips and a deep frown. 

Once again, to Johnny’s surprise, the kid shakes his head.

Johnny blows out such a heavy breath that it almost takes his soul away. He gulps with his eyes closed, trying to get hold of himself. “Great, that’s great.” He assures but he doesn’t know if it’s directed to the kid or himself. 

“So, they are good people, then?” This time the boy’s face pinches, grimaces disagreeableness making the policeman’s senses tingle. “If they’re not bad nor good...then maybe you’re scared of them?” 

The kid breaks away from Johnny’s grasp and fully turns his body facing him, now sitting cross-legged his gaze switches on the toy as he blinks the tear-logged lashes. 

The utterly defenseless and vulnerable sight of a child eats Johnny's heart out, making him feel wretched and defeated and by all means, he realizes that he has to say something, to do everything in his will to comfort the troubled kid but no matter how hard he ponders over, he can’t find the right words and even if he could he doesn’t think there is anything he can say that will make the child feel any better. 

So Johnny settles on gently poking the boy’s face with a toy, tickling him, making him scrunch his button nose but a hint of a smile still manages to break on his chubby face so regardless of the heavy mood still lingering in the room, Johnny takes it as a small win.

With a sigh, Johnny gently puts the plushie into the kid’s reach again and for a while the child just stares at the teddy bear, darting it side to side. “You know, sometimes parents-”

He never gets a chance to finish his sentence, not when the boy flinches at the last word, spreading the hair-raising feeling of dread inside of him, washing him over in a cold sweat. 

The time being Johnny blows one's cool, gets hysterical as his brain goes haywire when the dreaded realization finally settles in, making his heart drop to his shoes and blood run cold that pulses in his veins, thudding against his skull as chills run through his spine making all of his hair stand up in terror. “Are, are they-” He chokes onto his own words, something is scraping against his throat not letting him speak or breathe leaving him eyeing a kid with huge, horrified eyes. “Are they even your parents?” His voice drops breathy, as air is blocked from his lungs. 

The room is spinning and Johnny feels his skin cover in goosebumps, suddenly the temperature drops to freezing cold. 

The boy, completely unaware of the disturbance of the policeman just shrugs. 

“Then,” He rasps, his voice thick with tension. “Where did you first meet them?” Johnny gulps, scraping his dry throat as he waits for the dreadful answer.

The kid oblivious of the heavy air settled in between the officer and him, circles his finger around, making Johnny’s face wrinkle with a mix of worry and confusion.

“You met them here?” Johnny asks with no confidence lasting in his tone but the boy just shakes his head, quickly disagreeing. “So you met them in the hospital?”

The child whips his head up, eyeing him with so much melancholy inside that Johnny bites his tongue and avoids his heavy gaze. The kid nods. 

“In the hospital where doctors were treating your injuries?” And Johnny’s heart tightens just in the reminisce of the kid’s wounds, the thought of what degree of awful pain his small body had to go through. 

It’s unfair really, how life chooses to bedevil the kindest souls. 

When he catches the boy’s chin tremble and his teeth dig deeper into his lips, wiping rosy color from its skin, his heart sinks to his gut, breaking in two and he’s ashamed that the only thing he is capable of is opening his arms awkwardly in a welcoming hug. 

The kid falls easily in his arms, not wasting any more seconds to jump into Johnny’s embrace, clutching onto his uniform with his tiny fingers without ever letting the toy go, holding it behind his broad shoulders. 

Johnny chokes out a breath, pulling himself together as the million thoughts reeling inside his mind never seem to simmer down. He grips the boy close, yet stiffly, his arms that have been tainted with blood too many times to be holding a child are wrapped securely around him, rocking him back and forth. 

But the boy seems unfazed by the tense form of an officer, he just nuzzles his head deeper into his chest, staining his uniform with his hot tears.

When his petite and bruised body starts to tremble which follows the strangled sounds of sniffles that have managed to escape through the thick fabric of the policeman, Johnny tightens his grip, patting him unsure on the back. “It’s okay, I’m going to help you no matter what,” Johnny mumbles against his curly locks and closes his eyes, radiating as much content and comfort as needed for the kid to soak in, to bring slight peace to his wretched soul. 

The boy’s trembling fingers crumple the fabric in between his scraped pads and this when he lets himself howl his eyes out, cry the blues as he melts into Johnny’s arms, casting a gloom upon the policeman whose eyes also have been welled up by fresh tears. Johnny’s heart bleeds by each devastating whimper that leaves the kid, so with squeezed eyes, he holds him tight, safe, and sound. 

Johnny’s heart has raced in fear too many times to count, been placed in the firing line but he has never felt so helpless and powerless akin to this very moment with a defenseless kid crying in his arms, leaving him nothing but with hands tied. 

With the last sniff, the boy moves back, leaving the warm embrace with a choked hiccup and wipes away his running nose with his forearm, and drops his head in shame, tearing Johnny’s heart apart in small shreds. 

“Hey, it’s okay, everything is going to be okay.” He tries to assure and takes the toy from the child’s limp grasp. “This old man will help you.” Johnny squeaks, talking in high-pitched and making gibberish noises to entertain the dull. 

A small smile manages to stretch across the kid’s face but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes so Johnny pokes his sides with a plushie instead, tickling him and successfully making the child giggle through a lumpy throat. 

With a fond smile Johnny lightly prods the boy once more, making him laugh louder this time with his head dropped back he twitches away from the teddy bear but to no avail as Johnny continues to jab his sides until he fully guffaws, filling the room with his clear laughter. 

Having mercy on the kid Johnny puts the toy back into his arms and ruffles his hair gently and they lock their eyes for a long second, observing each other before Johnny stands up with a sigh and stretches his back. 

“I need to go now, thanks for helping me.” He caresses the kid’s full cheeks, pinching them lightly, and the boy just dazes at him wordlessly with his doe, round eyes full of admiration, and with that Johnny gathers his stuff. 

He’s already standing in front of the door, his fingers lingering on the door handle when a weak voice breaks the silence, making his gut churn. “Will you come back?” 

Momentarily his heart skips a beat, before enraging in a ruthless speed, throbbing against his ribcage and he drops his weight against the door, all the balance swept from his legs as they start to buckle.

Because even one sentence is enough for him to catch the heavy accent of a kid, making the uncomfortable feeling knot inside of his stomach making him nauseous.

His gut feeling alarms that something is wrong, that he is dealing with something much bigger than he can handle.

So with uneven breathing, he forces himself to turn around in the kid’s direction who is already gazing at him anticipatorily, his honey eyes full of hope, making Johnny’s heart shrink. 

The realization of his amateurishness comes crashing like waves on a stormy night so lies through gripped teeth. “I will and I will bring your parents back.” He declares with no real confidence but he doesn’t have the heart to crush the little kid’s heart, not when his eyes light up with awe, and a little bit of hope too. Johnny will do anything to not let these glimmering eyes to dim all over again.

“Do you promise?” He croaks, his voice weak and uncertain but his gaze is confident and Johnny can’t help but grimace to be so undeservedly viewed like somewhat a wonder. 

But he nods regardless of self-loathing. “I promise.”

“What do you mean you’re changing my district?” Johnny yells, gnashing one's teeth and not caring that the person sitting in front of him is his boss. 

Hot under the collar the boss with a sigh puts his face into his palms, in high dudgeon, he ruffles his hair. “We’ve talked about this last year officer Suh.” He answers sternly.

“But the family,” He shouts again but his voice breaks from the tension. “The case I’m working on!”

His boss groans and closes his eyes, completely ignoring him. “Boxes are already on your desk, just collect your belongings.” 

Johnny feels unexplainably small and powerless for the second time as his shoulders drop in defeat. “But I…” _But I promised._

With a last blow of the smoke, the cigarette burns down, and Johnny without taking his eyes from the glowing moon drops the cigarette butt on the ground, stepping on it harshly. “I promised.”

Haechan reads the document over and over again before he feels his eyes sting painfully, spreading the migraine inside his skull, blurring his vision. With a strangled groan he drops his head back, blankly staring at the ceiling, suffocated by too many thoughts at once. No matter how many times he reads the same sentence, no matter how much he thinks into he still can’t make sense out of his doomed fate.

Because how can one forget their whole life without any reminisce left behind- the mornings in the sun, the playgrounds in the streets, everything he ever loved and once called his own. But now he’s waking up in a world surrounded by flames, in the fog, the dust, and the pain, where everything he cherished is about to fade with no traces remaining.

What if this is what it’s going to be like for the rest of his life? Fight after fight barely getting any room to recover. What if he’s going to have to for the rest of his life act stronger than he is? He feels so old, so awfully old and worn, and so young all at once, raw as a wound.

But is there any real purpose for his torment? 

Does he, Haechan, a nameless, homeless boy deserve a happily ever after? 

Will he finish the book of his life with a soft epilogue that will make every pain, blood, and heartache, worth it? Like for the countless other questions in his life, he doesn’t have an answer.

_Who was I?_

_Who am I?_

_Who I truly am?_

He often questions himself who he further wishes to be; which parts of him, exactly, are still functioning properly. No answers. No answers at all. And god, how he ricochets between certainties and doubts. In the end, he is at war with himself, caught between what he truly is and what he’s supposed to be and he can feel his bones straining under the weight of all the lives he’s living.

And he has shed a thousand skins to become the person he is today, killed parts of him to survive in this horrific reality, painted his gold heart black so that the monsters couldn’t find him, thinking it was for the best but you don't get to die and be reborn the same. You come back, but you come back wrong. This is the price you pay for resurrection. But how much can you change and get away with it, before you turn into someone else before it's some kind of murder? Because you cannot remain a war between who you really are and who you pretend to be.

And as the images of his past lives that he has survived appear to his vision, suddenly he realizes that what she was regretting was not the lost past but the lost future, not what had not been but what would never be- _himself_.

In the end, all he did is that he forgot who he truly was. 

Caught up by his own raw feelings he jumps from his seat, he needs to get away, he needs to get away from himself. 

In a thirst for fresh air, he staggers outside the balcony and leans his body flush against the railing, panting and gasping for breath as the emotions flood his senses, suffocating him as a whole. 

_The wrinkled paper of the house bill remains thrown on the table._

Haechan is tormented in between his past and his present, and he wishes that at least one didn’t bring him ache to his wretched soul, he wishes he has been happy at one point in his life because the future looks as dreadful as the past. The heartbreaking part is that there is nothing Haechan can do to fix it-event by event, everything lined in a way so Haecahn would suffer as much as humanly possible. 

He muffles his whimper by his hand as he covers his face with his cold palms as if it would help the headache go away. 

Haechan is tired, _so_ , so tired, both physically and emotionally, he doesn't know how much longer he will last, he just wants everything to finish soon and with less pain possible because there is a limit until there is no way of stopping the flood of feelings he held down, and it is then he must decide if he will let go or if he’ll drown.

“Haechan?” The raspy voice calls out of a name that doesn’t truly belong to him so with effort Haechan tears his face up only to be met with a familiar sight of Mark gazing at him with an unreadable for Haechan look. “Are you okay?” The male asks with a hint of worry in his voice. 

So Haechan takes a gander at Mark through narrowed eyes, pays intense attention to his expression that remains the same, filled with pure concern and worry but if Haechan focuses more he can view the clear pity in his glassy eyes.

It’s enough to drive Haechan up the wall and make his blood boil with utter rage. 

Because how dare he pity him, all is he to him is a tragedy, right?

Only if he knew that Haechan can break him with his bloodstained teeth, he will never let anyone get on his way, he wants everyone to flinch, think twice before they reach out their callous hands to bruise. 

And before he can control himself, something _snaps_ in him, making him see nothing but red.

“Haechan-

“Can you just shut the fuck up already?” He screams, his voice echoes on the thick walls surrounding them, making them shake, and Mark jolts back, surprise and fear washes over his face which fills Haechan with more confidence because this is the expression Haechan desired to see, he doesn’t want to be viewed otherwise. “What do you want from me? Why do you keep bothering me?”

He yells before his voice gives up, his fingers gripping death hold on the cold metal of the railing as he keeps an eye on Mark who just gapes at him thrown into the corner and looking so taken aback and hurt, opening and closing his mouth but no words leave his frozen state, so Haecahn beats him up and his shout once again pieces through the uncomfortable silence. “Is it fun for you?” He snarls through gritted teeth. “Are you enjoying the show?”

“No, I-”

As the male in tight spot croaks meekly it just enrages Haechan more, clouding his senses. “No, what Mark? What the fuck you want from me?” Haechan lunges forwards with his hands fisted, ready to attack as his eyes shake with unrestrained rage and madness. 

“I just,” He gulps down, his Adam's apple jump. “I just want to be your friend,” Mark utters throatily while gripping on the soft fabric of his joggers.

Haechan’s breath hitches making him wince back. He has stood in front of his bullies, went through flames of hell, and has not faltered; but at that moment, his legs shook as he mustered to whisper a small and confused ‘What?’.

Friend? That’s a word enough to bring hope in one's heart and god knows how many sleepless nights Haechan wished upon a star for a friend but now hearing this same word doesn’t bring a euphoric feeling of relief as he initially thought. _It was too late._

Maybe, just maybe, if their roads crossed before Haechan’s feet slipped and he had fallen into the abyss of nothingness, maybe Haechan’s life would turn out differently. _But Mark was too late_. Haechan is broken beyond repair. 

Instead of bringing peace of mind and sparking joy in Haechan, Mark’s words only get under his skin, inflaming him more. Because it’s only a reminisce of his wasted lives, of what could have been if his life aimed in a different direction. 

Haechan chuckles and leans his back on the wall and with crossed arms, he glares at Mark. “Friends, huh? And who said I want to be your friend?” Haechan spits bitterly, his rash words like a poison drips from his restless evil tongue. 

The words like sword thrusts, stab Mark in the core of his heart making him flinch and wrap arms around himself, closing himself within the protective walls that keep him safe as Haechan’s eyes are still pointed at him like a sharp knife, ready to wound his scarred soul.

_They all hate you._

_Everyone hates you._

_No wonder Haechan doesn’t want to be friends with a murderer._

_There was one person who cared about you and you’ve killed him._

_Nononono._ With trembling hands, Mark covers his ears trying to stop the screams inside his brain but they only get louder, consuming his senses as a whole.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” Haechan snarls, with a devilish grin outstretching on his face as he watches the boy in front of him break. “I have no obligation of what you’ve pictured me as! I never showed any interest in befriending you!”

_They all hate you. They all hate you. They all hate you._

Mark’s legs buckle, the air knocking out from his lungs as he staggers back, his fingers grip tightens onto his roots, nearly ripping his hair off.

And Haechan is addicted, intoxicated by the feeling of being in power, being the one who brings terror in others. Not the other way around. “Aren’t you going to speak-”

“Stop screaming at me!” Mark shrieks on the verge of tears as the ringing in his head thuds against his skull, fogging his mind which makes Haechan shut his jaw with a loud click, teeth gripping, stopping more venom to pour out of his mouth. 

_You had to be the one to die, not Donghyuck._

_How long are you going to be a burden for everyone?_

_How come a murderer can walk freely when a child's body is rotting somewhere in the woods?_

“I,” Mark’s voice breaks, fighting for breath, suffocated by the overwhelming flow of emotions. “I didn’t,” He clears his throat and steps back, again enveloping himself in a hug. “I didn’t know I made you so uncomfortable,” Mark whispers weakly, a tone filled with unshed tears. “I’m sorry.”

_“I’m sorry that I shouted at you.”_

The percussive ringing in his ear returns to mind making Haechan jerk in thundering white noise, so Haechan sighs exasperatedly, slowly coming to his senses the more he watches the trembling form of the male and suddenly he feels a painful tug on his heartstrings, taking his breath away. It doesn’t feel as good to view someone as nice as Mark to be ripped to shreds as it normally would. 

When Haechan finally notices the doe eyes glistening in the moonlight he doesn’t feel satisfied to finally be able to wipe the look of warmness and fondness reflecting them. No, it feels wrong to study the dullness and utter heartbreak behind his tender eyes. 

It feels so, _so wrong._

His heart drops and all at once he’s consumed by an irrational feeling of dread and fear, his head buzzing as the hissing in the ears gets more tumultuous, pounding in his skull. 

_“You always will be my number one best friend.”_

He squeezes his eyes shut in pain and hunches down, covering his ears but the ear-splitting beep never stops.

_“Hyung will always protect you.”_

Haechan’s eyes wide, shaking in agony as he tries to muffle his scream through his gripped jaw as he digs his fingers deeper into his skin, feeling the wetness of the sweat on the pads of his fingers.

_“What about you? Do you love my son the most?” Yeah… I love (Dong…) the most.”_

The electrical wave of sound gets unbearable, spreading in every tip of his nerves, urging him to rip his skin off.

_“Please let’s go home, I’m so scared.”_

The terrified weeping of a child echoes in his brain, making his teeth chatter and body shake uncontrollably as the thin line between reality and illusion blurs in one another. 

_“Please don’t leave me again.”_

He gasps, the sound stops as quick as he started and he can’t stop himself from collapsing onto his knees, still in a state of nerves dazing into space with crazy eyes that twitch restlessly in horror. Blinking rapidly he regains what's left of his sanity and quickly whips his head up, only to be met with a familiar emptiness.

His heart pangs painfully one more as he gazes at the empty space where Mark was standing a moment ago, shaking and with tears in his eyes. Tears that Haechan brought with him. Haechan’s heart races, pumping in his ears as the feeling of numbness lays claim on him, suffocating him and holding him in a death hold. 

This is it...This is how the _story stops._

But Haechan doesn’t feel relieved, not even for a bit, instead, he chokes onto dry tears and with a short steps walks inside the soulless apartment, holding onto the door frame in any source of a sense of balance. He feels cold, empty, broken-hearted, and nothing at once making him nauseous as he blankly stares into space. The thread or net of threads finer than cobweb makes him catch his breath when he feels the tug silently pull towards him-this gravitational very gently, invisibly.

Was he born with its knot around his neck?

He crawls back into bed and pulls the sheet over his head. But even that doesn’t shut out the light, so he buries his head under the darkness of the pillow. And he falls asleep whispering _"I am safer alone I am safer alone I am safer alone I am safer alone"._

But isolation is not safety, it is death. If no one knows you're alive, _you aren't._

If a tree falls in the forest, and no one is around to hear it, it does make a sound; but then that sound _is gone._


	6. !!!AUTHOR'S NOTE!!!

I'm sorry for the misleading update but I felt terrible for not putting up a new chapter for so long and I didn’t know where else to post so that’s why I’m here to disappoint you as it’s not a new chapter.

I know it’s been almost 4 months since the last update but I'm currently on medication and my mental health isn’t in the best state and I both physically and mentally can’t write right now even this small note is taking way too much energy than needed so I hope you won’t leave my story by because I'm really passionate about this one and I really really really want to finish it so please have a patience with me and I hope you can understand and I also hope that my meds will finally kick in so I can write again and update as soon as possible!

**Author's Note:**

> After much pondering, I've finally decided to post this story and I really hope everyone will enjoy reading it because I've never put so much energy into any other fanfictions before so I will gladly take any constructive criticism especially about my grammar as English isn't my first language so advises are always welcomed. You can find me on:  
> [CC](https://curiouscat.qa/Sunau03)  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Sunau0)


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